


A Lesson in Navigation

by Sandalaris



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Butterfly Effect, F/M, Fix-It, He's the only one who does, Its been extended thanks to a forgotten bag and Sonja, Kate Fuller/Seth Gecko's Mexican Honeymoon, Kate came back, Season 2 AU, Seth thinks he knows why, Sonja and Kate do not get along, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-07-17 10:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16094105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandalaris/pseuds/Sandalaris
Summary: Maybe if her dad had known his limits, had been willing to ask someone other than God for help, her mama would still be alive. But that was then, and Kate’s not her daddy. She knows she’ll never be the one to pull Seth from this hole he dug himself into, but if he won’t do it himself she can at least find someone to do it for him.Sonja and Kate should get along, and in a perfect world they might have, but they both learned long ago the world is far from perfect. It's a miracle Kate didn't snap sooner.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently it takes about 10 days for someone to finish going through heroin withdrawals, with the worst happening around day 3 or 4. Who knew?

She couldn’t save her daddy from his drinking, no matter how much love was between them, and she never even contemplated she’d be able to save Seth from himself. But she saw the way that Sonja had him tied down, the sweat on his skin and her insistence that he needs to get clean, and sees what they -what _he_ \- needs. 

Kate would have kept going, all the way back to the Twister, but she had left one of her bags back at the motel, one she really could have done without, but had convinced herself it wouldn’t hurt to turn around and grab. When she got back she cursed Seth’s stupidity for not immediately leaving, for not putting miles between himself and the man trailing him, but had still waited across the street for him to step out of their once-shared hotel room. And then Sonja had shown up and Kate had no choice but to make sure her partner ( _ex_ -partner, she reminds herself) wasn’t about to get his ass killed. 

“It's all here,” Sonja says with a tight smile, tapping the finale stack of bills into a neat pile on top of the stolen car Kate still has, despite the rattle in its engine and the way she’s had to turn the key three times to get it to start most times. 

Sonja shoves the money into the pocket of her cutoff shorts, glancing up with an unreadable expression in her eyes, before she turns back to the room behind them. “I guess I’ll go untie our boy and get out of your hair.” 

“Wait.” 

She stops, looking back at Kate where she’s fidgeting with the straw strap of her bag. 

“I’ll give you another ten if you don’t.” She winces, knowing it’ll leave them, leave _her_ if this doesn’t work, with less than 4-grand. “Do what you were going to do. Get him clean, and I’ll give you another ten.” 

“That’s an awful lot for a little rehab and tough love,” Sonja says carefully, studying her in the parking lot light. 

“It’s yours,” she insists, straightening from where she was leaning against the vehicle so they’re on more equal footing, “if you do it.” 

Maybe if her dad had known his limits, had been willing to ask someone other than God for help, her mama would still be alive. But that was then, and Kate’s not her daddy. She knows she’ll never be the one to pull Seth from this hole he dug himself into, but if he won’t do it himself she can at least find someone to do it for him. 

Her mama always said that intelligence is learning from your mistakes, wisdom is learning for others’. 

“Alright. You got yourself a deal.” 

\- 

“So, you’re the little girl, huh?” 

Kate blinks at Sonja, bewildered at the break in silence. They’re sitting in Kate’s recently rented motel room, because she’s not dealing with Seth while he’s like this. That's Sonja’s job, what Kate is paying her for. (Not that Seth even recognized her the one time she came in, gun in hand to see Sonja telling him how their heist had screwed her over and she was going to get him clean to pay her back, but she saw the red marks on Sonja’s neck and that was enough.) 

“What?” 

Sonja snorts, looking up from where she’s cleaning her tattoo gun. It’s almost familiar, similar yet different to what Kate’s gotten used to seeing Seth do each night. 

“The one he got the other passport for,” she explains, putting down a piece and picking up another. “How’d you end up with him anyway? You gotta be, what, fifteen?” 

Kate bristles, her shoulders starting to stiffen at the tone more than the words. She looks young, always has. Was mistaken for eleven when she was fourteen and seven when she was twelve. But the way Sonja says it, like it’s something dirty, puts her on the defensive. 

“Seventeen,” she clips back, forgetting for a moment to add that extra year. Eighteen raises fewer questions, even in Mexico. An invisible man-made line that for some reason turns her from child-in-the-company-of-a-skeevy-looking-adult-male into young-woman-who-can-make-her-own-choices in the eyes of those they meet. 

“Didn’t realize Seth’s tastes ran so...” she flicks her gaze up and down, lingering for a moment on Kate’s modest neckline and sensible shoes, “vanilla.” 

And suddenly she gets it, mouth falling open in a small “o” before words fall out in a desperate rush. 

“We are _not_ sleeping together!” She presses against the back of her chair, hands up and palms out like she can protect herself from the implication. 

Sonja lifts her brows a moment, head titling in question and tinged with disbelief. 

“We’re just friends.” The word is awkward on her tongue, but she doesn’t have another qualifier. No other way to describe what her and Seth are too each other. She’s not even sure why she’s so flustered, this isn’t the first-time someone has made that particular assumption about her and Seth’s relationship, but it’s the way she said it. Like Kate was something to hide, something degrading that Seth (who’s a heroin addict and a wanted felon, thankyou _very_ much) should be ashamed of for lowering himself to be with. 

“Right, ‘just friends.’” Sonja smiles at her, soft and mocking as she puts away her cleaning supplies. “Listen,” she adds, suddenly serious and eyes almost kind, “you seem like a nice girl, but take my advice; get some new friends. That one’s on a one-way trip to ruin and he’s going to drag whosever with him down too.” 

She swallows back her bristling reply, pushing past her irritation and telling herself that she doesn't know Sonja well enough to take her words as insults. She’s become so quick to anger these past few months, her once trusting nature cracking under the weight of one too many let downs. The world is a cruel place, but that’s not all it is, and she's afraid she's forgetting that. 

She lets out a tired sigh. “Thanks,” she says softly, attempting a genuine smile, “but I haven’t really decided what I’m going to do yet.” 

\- 

Seth once told her that only amateurs exchange cash in a parking lot. But Kate's not a professional and this isn’t an illegal transaction. They’re not even exactly in the parking lot, but on the little concrete pathway between it and the motel room door. But this is the second time in a week Kate has handed over large amounts of cash to Sonja. She's hoping its the last. 

“I can’t guarantee he’ll stay clean,” Sonja says. “But I think he’s ready to try,” she adds before Kate can assure her she knows. “He’d hit rock bottom when I found him, was chasing that final high more than the escape.” She studies her a moment before asking, “You staying?” 

“I think so, yeah,” Kate says with a slow, leery nod. Seven days of pointed remarks interspersed with warnings to leave have left her with a spike of caution at such questions. 

The door behind them opens, both of them turning to see Seth standing in the dull, yellow light wearing a clean undershirt and a pair of his never-ending supply of dress slacks. He raises a brow at Sonja shoving the folded bills under the edge of her bright pink bra but doesn’t comment, flicking his gaze to Kate and pinning it there. 

She had used the spare key she still has to double check his sobriety when Sonja had declared her work done an hour ago. Had watched him blink stupidly at her half-way to the bathroom with a towel in one hand and a sheen of sweat on his skin and dampening his clothes before he asked her what she was doing there in kind of dazed awe. 

“I left a bag behind,” she’d said, awkward and defiant at once. She’d let a beat pass before shoving down her instinctive defensiveness, allowing a small shrug as she continued, “Ran into Sonja when I got back. She said you were getting clean.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but wasn’t the whole truth either. But Seth could be an angry, prideful bastard and she was afraid that if she told him she’d paid for his sobriety that he’d use again just to spite her. 

The stare he’s giving her now is different, clear and sharp but too cloaked in shadows for her to get a good read of his mood. She thinks that’s the point. 

“Don’t you two seem chummy,” he says, still not taking his eyes from her. 

“Just giving the girl some advice,” Sonja answers, turning fully to Seth with her back to Kate. She tries not to bristle, something in the move setting her teeth on edge. “Words of wisdom from someone with a little more life experience.” She flashes Kate a smile, quick and over the shoulder before her attention is back on Seth. It lingers there as his gaze finally flicks between them, his brows briefly furrowing before he smoothes it out with the long easy of practice, hands burying in his slacks as he leans against the door jam. 

“Give us a moment, would you, Katie?" Sonja says with a brief glance over her shoulder. Kate's arms instinctively cross at the condescension in her tone, but Sonja’s already taking those couple of steps that put her at the door. She has to brush past Seth to get in the room and he watches her out of the corner of his eye, almost relaxed as she passes. Kate’s jaw clenches, feeling off-footed and insulted, although she can’t put her finger exactly on how. Oh, she knows she’s being dismissed, sent away like a child off to bed so the grown-ups can talk, but she can’t quite figure out how Sonja did it. 

Kate’s been in snippy fights with friends before, is well versed in how catty girls can get, but the past week has felt like something on a whole new level. Not the barbed remarks and quick rebuttals that the girls back home favored, but something a step further. Sonja fights like a grown woman, effectively swinging words and tone like weapons in a manner that’s familiar and completely new to Kate all at once. 

There are moments when she’s been kind, Kate reminds herself, forcing her irritation down. When Sonja had looked at Kate with something like gentle worry and almost care. Usually followed by trying to convince Kate that she needed to leave, get away from Seth before he gets her hurt. 

_Too late_ , she thinks. 

She wonders briefly if that’s what Sonja is trying to do now, convince Seth that Kate’s better off without him. She’d wish her luck with that, when other well-meaning men and woman who only saw a sweet girl with a hard man had tried to do the same and failed, but she doesn’t really want to leave. She could, she knows that much, proved it to herself on the side of the road when he pushed her just that inch too far, but she knew when she first got in his car she'd rather have someone by her side than not. 

“Kate?” 

She looks up, catching him studying her under the mid-afternoon sun. She shakes the tension from her shoulders, lets it out in a breath as she gives him a small, tight smile. 

“Glad to see you’re feeling better.” 

He watches her for a beat more before letting out a harsh sigh of his own. “Yeah. I never want to go through that again. Give me fucking culebras any day.” 

A small knot of worry and anger she hadn’t realized was so central loosens at his words and she nods, not quite able to return the lighthearted grin he’s giving her, but letting herself soften to him. Letting him see it, because she can’t bring herself to reject his olive branch altogether. 

“We'll get dinner. After.” She indicates to where Sonja can be heard, rummaging around as she waits for them to finish talking. “My room’s a few doors down.” 

He doesn’t manage to hide his surprise before she sees it, head whipping around to where she flicks her fingers at her room, and then facing her once more, giving her a quick nod as he rubs the back his head in a nervous habit she hasn’t seen from him in weeks. 

“See you in a few.” And then he’s ducking back in the room, leaving Kate standing on the sidewalk and staring at the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This literally started out with the idea of Kate and Sonja talking and Sonja assuming Kate and Seth were sleeping together and that’s why Seth turned her down. Then it sorta grew... I really did not intend for Sonja and Kate to fight over Seth (and really, it’s just Sonja fighting. Kate’s just pissed off at being dragged into the middle of Seth and Sonja’s shit), but Sonja just wouldn’t leave.
> 
> I'm not exactly sure how long this will be, or how fast I'll update. Sorry.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was determined not to post this until at least tomorrow, but then I got paid today and it was more than I thought which put me in a good mood, so I did. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> I feel like this is going to be five chapters. Of course, last time I said that about a fic it ended up being ten chapters, so who knows.

Seth knocks on her door by late-afternoon, freshly shaved and wearing an unwrinkled suit, reminding her more of the man he was when they met. She’s taking it as a positive sign. 

There’s a burger chain within walking distance, in the opposite direction from the little shopping center they robbed. She’s not sure how much Seth will feel like eating, not after the bits and pieces Sonja told her on the effects of heroin withdrawal, but he doesn’t counter her suggestion either. 

The walk there is awkward and filled with brittle tension Kate isn’t sure how to navigate. They’ve fought before, could hardly avoid it with how much life on the road shoved them into each other’s space, and that’s not counting the added friction of their inherent differences, but they’ve never _separated_ until now. 

Maybe it broke something between them, Kate thinks, that night on the side of the road. She’s had time to think about it, sitting in her empty motel room waiting for a man she’s not convinced is worth the effort, too finish falling apart so he can either put himself back together or continue down his chosen road to ruin. She knows they were cracking long before that night, hindsight being what it is. Knows too that it was hurt and trauma and grief adding to the weight of bitter resentment building between them, her own as well as his. 

There’s a knowledge between them now, of the various lines they stumbled and pushed each other across. When metaphorical claws started going too deep and bleeding them out into spite-filled shells of their former selves. She never knew she could be so vindictive, looks back on those moments when she aimed for Seth’s weaknesses and soft, bleeding wounds with an odd mix of shame and pride. She doesn’t recognize that girl from a week ago any more than she does the one from three months back, standing outside a biker-bar slash strip club with her daddy and brother on one side and a set of thieves on the other. 

_Anger is its own venom,_ she thinks, wondering if she’s managed to bleed her wounds clean over the past seven days, or if her own withdrawals have just begun. 

She steals a glance at Seth, taking in the furrowed brows and tightness to his shoulders. It’s like walking next to an almost-stranger, familiar and different all at once, this Seth with his suits and shaved face who reminds her of the one who put a gun to her head while still being the same man who had taken her to the beach just because she mentioned it in passing one night. 

Subtle differences, she thinks, noting instead the longer length of his hair, the extended black lines along his neck, the things that divide the Seth of then from the Seth of now. It seems silly, a child-like notion that a physical representation can mean change, that a person even _can_ change (although isn’t that what she’s been taught all her life? The power of God’s love. But even that feels something like a broken rhetoric, said to comfort the masses and provide strength to those who are seeking to start a new path. It’s pointless anyways, she reminds herself, Seth didn’t find God in the dark pit of his suffering.) It’s still easier to cling to though, this idea of change, easing some of that worry inside her that’s still waiting for him to snap a harsh reminder that she wanted to leave and mock her choice to return. 

She doesn’t want to go back to what they were, but isn’t sure how to bridge the _then_ to that shiny possibility of _could be,_ and is stuck in the broken ruined mess of the now with a man she’s not even sure wants to fix things. Not the way she does. 

“What did Sonja want to talk to you about?” she asks when the silence has gone on too long, and because she wants to know. It's been just another irritating thorn in her side from the woman she hired, her mind throwing out scenario after scenario, each more unlikely than the last. 

Seth looks at her out of the corner of his eye, a muscle twitching along his cheek, and she wonders if he’s nervous too. If the same worry she feels about saying or doing something that’ll send them spiraling back to that blood splattered night is flowing through his veins. 

“She wanted to know what I was planning on doing next.” He gives a jerky shrug, more of a settling across the breadth of his shoulders, like he’s shaking off nerves. Or prepping to face them. “She went through something similar once. She wanted to make sure I had a plan.” 

She suspects that’s not all of it, that Seth is keeping parts of the conversation to himself, and she wants to be annoyed, part of her is if she’s honest, but she knows she doesn’t really have the right to be. They’re both entitled to their privacy, allowed to keep their secrets and hidden pieces to themselves. He’s not her partner anymore, might not be again, and even if he was that doesn’t grant her access to every detail of his life. 

“What was with the two of you outside?” he continues, opening the door to the fast food restaurant for her, that peek of hidden gentleman even here and now with things being what they are. “Seemed like I missed something.” 

“She thinks we’re sleeping together,” she replies. An unamused smile quirks one side of her mouth. “She doesn’t approve.” Kate heads towards the short line, pausing when Seth nearly trips over the cheap rug at the entrance. And then, because part of her still feels bad for him after what he’s just gone through, she adds, “I think she thinks you can do better.” 

The short bark of laughter that escapes him is unexpected, traced with bitter amusement and something akin to disbelief. 

“What makes you say that?” 

Kate shrugs, feeling every inch her mere seventeen years as she recalls the way Sonja could navigate a conversation to leave her feeling childish and inadequate. It’s just another reason she’s glad the week is over. She'd been on edge every time Sonja came by her room with an update, never knowing if she was going to be hearing sly insinuations or warnings about how dangerous Seth was to her. 

“The things she’d say to me; calling me a child, that she was surprised you’d go for someone so bland, implying I didn’t know what I was doing.” She cuts herself off before she can add _sexually_ , doesn’t need –doesn't _want_ \- him to hear it. And really doesn’t want to be the one to say it. It still leaves her flustered and uncomfortable and she doesn’t know why she should care if Seth thinks about her lack of experience, but is reluctant to be the one to put the reminder in his head. 

He’s not stupid, she practically flat out told him she’s never done more than French kiss a boy, and he’s perfectly aware of her who her father was and the kind of life she lived before him. It didn’t used to matter, was once a point of pride in fact, the promise she made before God and her parents to keep herself chaste until marriage, but somewhere along the way it stopped meaning “goodness,” and started meaning nothing at all. And now another woman’s flaunting of her own prowess flipped it even further into something nearly shameful. 

Seth curses low and under his breath, wiping a hand down his face in a rough jerk. He pins her with a narrowed eyed look, waiting as Kate gives their orders in halting Spanish to the pimple-faced teen behind the counter.

“Don’t pay whatever bullshit she said to you a second thought, alright?” he says as they grab their cups and step to the side. “She’s just pissed ‘cause I turned her down.” 

Her lips part in surprise, pausing to look at him with wide eyes. It hadn’t crossed her mind that Sonja’s motivations were anything but disproval of a grown man being with a girl far too young for him. Didn’t dawn on her to look for an alternate reason behind her implications and warnings, or that _jealousy_ was even a possibility. 

“When?” 

She hadn’t even realized they knew each other, not really. Sonja owned the shop next to the beautician’s place, the one Seth had used to break into the back room through, she learned that much from their conversations, but a heist hardly seems like the time for a hook-up, and afterwards Seth was a mess. 

“When I went to her for our papers.” He shrugs, grabbing up both their trays and hurrying to nearby table. His shoulders are stiff as he adds, “Then again during the job.” 

Kate blinks, bewildered and a little angry, and if she’s completely honest, a bit flattered that someone like Sonja, who is older and gorgeous and so utterly confident in herself, would see her as competition. Kate would not say she’s insecure, not compared to the average teenager. She’s always thought of herself as having a healthier self-image than her friends who would titter and blush and fret when buying clothes or discussing whether some boy liked them. Kate grew up knowing she was loved (more importantly; that she was genuinely _liked_ ) and was secure in the knowledge that there would always be people who found her beautiful even if there were some who didn’t, but a part of her looks at Sonja and Seth, sees their age and good looks and life experience, and marvels at being considered on par. Kate is a pretty teenager, but she’s still a teen. There’s a difference between being a pretty girl and a pretty woman, and only time can change her from one the other. Maybe once she gets a little older, more college-age and out of the relm of high school, after she turns eighteen and- her mind trips, flipping over the thought and halting her rational track with the harsh, cold slap of hypocrisy. 

How many times has she used the same societal-bred assumption against others? Laughing at their foolishness for mistaking her age for ignorance, for thinking a mark on some calendar magically transformed her from child into an adult? Playing with or against their assumptions until she’s gotten what she’s wanted out of them? What great life lesson will turning eighteen teach her that she hasn't learned in the past three months? What could time possible give her that the night she spent in the Twister didn’t? 

“So, in a way,” she says slowly as they take their seats, eyes starting to sparkle with mischief and half her mind still focused on this new insight, following the string of thoughts and examining each new link as she tries to decide where she stands on this, “she was trying to steal my man.” 

Seth looks at her sharply, eyes narrowed and studying her teasing grin a moment before he scoffs and looks away, a wry grin tugging the corners of his lips. When he looks back there’s a glint in his eye, a flash of teeth as he leans forward. 

“You going to fight for me, princess?” 

She pretends to think about it, enjoying the way something twists and shivers in her stomach. “Nah,” she declares, stealing his cup and taking a sip through the straw. “I don't think I need too.” 

\- 

"Can I grab my bag from your room?” Kate asks when they enter the motel parking lot. 

“Yeah. Alright,” Seth replies with a jerk of his head, bypassing her room for his. 

Her heart feels lighter after the teasing and easy conversation they shared over cheap burgers, the first thin strands of connection bridging their fractured relationship. It’s something everyone should do, she decides, sit down and have a meal when relationships become strained. She makes a mental note of it for when she finds Scott. 

“It’s a bit of- _fucking A_!” Seth bites out, freezing just a few steps inside his hotel room. 

Kate looks over his shoulder, trapped there by Seth’s arm blocking her path, and blinking in confusion at the somewhat familiar figure perched on the end of Seth’s bed. 

“Carlos,” Seth greets, and it clicks in Kate’s head, matching the name the Gecko brothers argued about to the announcer at the Twister. 

"You’d think a grown man would know how to clean-up after himself,” Carlos says casually. His eyes flicker to where she’s half-hidden behind Seth and the smile he gives is all too knowing and mocking, slithering across his face with hidden secrets. “My my, if I’d known you’d take such a liking to little Miss. Kate I would have charged a finder’s fee.” 

“You can take it out of the twenty mil you still owe me,” Seth says before Kate can voice her confusion. “How’d that work out for you, by the way?” 

Something tightens and flinches at the edges of Carlos’ mouth, shadows snaking their way through his eyes and over his features. 

“That good, huh?” She can feel Seth’s tension through the arm across her stomach and half-curled around her side, keeping her partially tucked behind him. “How the hell did you find us, anyway?” 

His pistol presses lightly against her belly as he moves her another inch. She brushes her fingers against it, half in confirmation to herself and half as a reminder to him. It’s something she’s done just once or twice before, when they'd run into unexpected trouble. 

“My boss sent a gunslinger, but he doesn’t know what rocks to lift,” Carlos taunts, pushing himself slowly to standing and advancing a step. “I know where Geckos hide.” His gaze catches on Kate again, and she can practically feel the weight against her skin where he traces her features. He opens his mouth, something dark and greedy in his gaze, but Seth speaks before he can continue. 

“Well, we don’t know where Richard is.” 

His arm twitches against her and she can’t tell if he gets it, if he even remembers what her fingers against the waistband of his slacks mean, or if it’s just shifting of muscle, but Kate moves. Takes those final steps to the side, one hand tracing a line across his mid-back to mark her path. His arm follows, appearing to their audience of one that he’s pushing her behind him. 

“And I don’t care. So tell your boss he can stop trying.” 

His hand disappears under his suit jacket and then he’s twisting and turning and firing all in the time it takes Kate to run towards the still open door, one hand in her bag trying to fish out the keys and praying that the car will start on the first try. 

A squeal of tires and a familiar voice calling her voice puts an end to her search. 

Seth is shouting at her to get in the car, one hand planted firmly in the center of her spine, pressing her forward and all but shoving her in Sonja’s car before them. She floors it before Seth even manages to close the door, cursing heavily as he yells at Sonja to “fucking move already!” 

Kate doesn’t think about why she was there until they’re two towns over, and by then she’s much too grateful to ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I’ve written 12 FDtD fics (3 published and only one complete, but 4-5 of them are just scenes that I like and will probably try and combine into one fic at some point) and despite a fair number of them being from Kate’s point of view, I find Seth the easiest headspace to get into. Even this fic I found myself going “And this is what Seth is feeling/thinking/doing” while following Kate. I may write a sort of companion piece to this completely from Seth’s point of view. It’d only be certain scenes and times when Kate’s not around, but considering that a lot is happening with Seth (and Sonja) that Kate is just not seeing, it might be beneficial to post it. Kate’s an unreliable narrator, at least in this fic, because she really only has about half of the story. 
> 
> I swear when I first wrote the Carlos scene, it was two lines, one of which is the last one, since I didn’t think it’d vary all that much from the show. The other line I decided to do the tiniest bit of expanding on and... well, you see how long it is. Still debating if this scene was enough to add Carlos to the list of characters.
> 
> I don't really love this chapter, despite it having one of my favorite lines that I've written for this fic in it, but it holds a lot of important realizations for Kate, which helps me to at least like it. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't get used to this quick of an update. This is sort of luck thing. I normally attempt to post a chapter every 2 weeks and then often run late. So three chapters in less than a week? Its a miracle!
> 
> Spanish is from Google translate and my limited high school Spanish. All mistakes are mine.

They have to stop for gas a few towns over, piling out of the car while Sonja peppers Seth with questions. He fields them well enough, spinning a tale of fiction with an ease that Kate can never quite manage. Her own lies have to stay in the relm of truth and work best in short burst of chatter before she loses the thread, although she feels she’s gotten better at twisting them to suit her needs. 

She’s eyeing the standing drink coolers, debating the merits of caffeine on the chance they end up stopping for the night while Seth fills up and Sonja peruses the snacks. They’re in a town Kate’s never been to before and the clerk doesn’t speak a word of English, showing nothing but confusion when she tried to pull out a map and ask where they were. 

“ _Que todos, cariño_?” he asks with a smile as she sets her drinks, a green tea for herself and water for Seth, on the counter. 

“Um, the gas. _Carburante_?” she replies, pointing out the window where Seth has finished up.

“Your pronunciation is terrible,” Sonja says with a kind laugh, coming up next to her with her own purchases in hand. She rattles off something to the clerk in Spanish, the language rolling off her tongue perfectly. It irks Kate, which is completely irrational and she shoves the feeling aside. 

He rings her up, and Kate at least recognizes the amount, but Sonja pulls a wad of bills out of her pocket. 

“I can pay for myself.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Sonja replies, already handing over the cash. “It’s my car anyway.” 

Before she can respond Seth appears on her other side, sliding a hand up her back to hook his fingers over her opposite shoulder, and looking down at the drinks. 

“One of those mine?” 

Sonja watches them with an unreadable expression, and Kate becomes suddenly hyper-aware of her and Seth’s proximity, of the warm press of his fingertips in the dip of her clavicle, the edge of one finger brushing against the sensitive skin at her pulse, and the proprietary way he had pulled her closer into his side until she’s touching him from shoulder to hip. 

He absently presses his thumb against the back of her neck, brushing the pad back and forth and lightly dragging the edge of his nail over her skin. A shiver tries to dance down her spine and she squashes it under Sonja’s gaze, heat crawling up her cheeks. 

She hands him his water bottle, blinking rapidly as the cool plastic nearly slips from her fingers before he can take it, feeling like a little kid with her first crush under Sonja’s stare. Which is stupid and childish and all other manner of ridiculous, because this is _Seth_ and this is her and none of this should be new. They’ve been something-like-family-but-not for so long and Kate isn’t going to let a woman she barely knows come in and make her feel self-conscious with the one person Kate has left that is _hers._ (Scott is hers too, but Scott is her brother and the last of her family, and therefore gets a category of his own.) 

“Great. Let’s hit the road,” Seth says as the clerk hands back the change, already steering Kate towards the door. 

It takes everything inside her to ignore Sonja following silently a step behind. 

“Get in the back, kiddo,” Seth directs. “You’re heavier than you look.” 

She glares at the playful grin he’s sporting. It’s not her fault the front seat is so tiny or that they had no time to rearrange themselves as they drove off, forcing her to perch almost entirely in his lap while the gear shift dug uncomfortably into the side of her thigh. 

“You once _sat on me_ in the RV,” she reminds him, “and I took it without complaint.” 

Her lack of comment at the time had more to do with the gun he was holding and her precarious position as his hostage, but she feels the point still stands. 

Seth opens the passenger door, pulling the seat forward and indicating to the back as he grumbles good-naturedly, “Alright, smartass.” 

“You sat on her?” Sonja asks in confusion as Kate starts to climb into the backseat. 

“In my defense,” he says, pushing the passenger seat back into position, “the showers in those things are really only designed for one person.” 

Kate swallows back giddy laugh as he shuts his door before Sonja can reply. He catches her grin in the rearview mirror, his own lips twitching upward in response, and that nervous, hyper-aware blade in her chest twists into a sweet, warm ache. 

\- 

Kate had managed to avoid telling Sonja how she and Seth met, toeing the line of rude on more than one occasion, but unable to think a lie she could tell convincingly. Sonja stopped asking after a little while, but Kate is under no impression she’s given up on her answers. 

Since Seth’s sobriety, and his love for his own voice, she’s focused her inquires to him, leaving Kate to watch and listen in something that’s almost like peace, if Sonja wasn’t so determined to make her displeasure with Kate and Seth’s supposed relationship known. 

“We have a destination, or am I just driving?” Sonja asks after a long stretch of silence that had Kate nearly dozing off. 

“We’ll go to my Uncle Eddie’s,” Seth answers, taking another swallow of his water. He’s been downing the things like he’s on the verge of dehydration, and Kate’s not sure if he’s trying to replenish from his week of detoxing, or if he’s actually that thirsty. 

Kate perks up, leaning forward excitedly to ask, “In Houston?” 

Seth gives her a grin, twisting slightly in the passenger seat to meet her eyes. “The very one. We’ve got fucking papers now, honey. Can finally get out of this shithole.” 

“Houston?” Sonja cuts in, before Kate can start asking questions, head filling with all the stories Seth has told her about the man who practically raised him and Richie. “That’s a two-day drive. Either of you got money for a hotel?” 

“Yes,” Kate says bluntly. She opens her mouth to add that she has enough for Seth and herself, letting Sonja work out that she’s paying her own way, but he speaks up. 

“We’ll take turns driving. Get there in half that time.” 

“I am not sleeping in the car,” Sonja says back, voice light but firm, and Kate spares a moment to admire it. The way she cuts through Seth’s controlling bullshit without having to fight for that inch of give. “And as the person who made your papers, I know just how fake her license is.” 

Kate’s admiration dies. 

“I’m seventeen,” she clips, “not twelve. And between the two of us,” she indicates to Seth and herself, “I’m the only one with a valid driver’s license.” Even if it’s across the country in a trashed RV by a vampire filled temple. 

“No offense,” Sonja replies, looking at Kate in the rearview mirror, “I’m sure you’re a great driver, for your age. But it’s not just your legal status I’m concerned about,” her gaze flicks to Seth with a small, amused smile, “it’s your lack of experience. Don’t worry, some things just take time to really get good at.” 

Kate’s shoulders stiffen, and she has to physically bit the inside of her lip to keep from making her aggravation known. 

Sonja doesn’t drop the comments after that, making a point to bring up Kate’s age and lack of ‘real life experience’ at every opportunity. 

Kate’s taken to one-word, clipped responses, and Seth either changes the subject or gives Sonja a knowing smirk followed by “you’d be surprise” in such a manner that leaves Kate flushing hotly at the innuendo. 

He doesn’t defend her, for which she’s grateful. She’s been in enough verbal girl-fights to know that going on the defensive is always a sign of losing. And Seth Gecko doesn’t lose. 

They pull into a rest stop when the hour starts to flirt with midnight, getting out to stretch their legs and use the bathroom. 

“You’re a pretty girl,” Sonja says as Kate washes her hands in the women’s restroom sink. “Bet you’ll be quite the heartbreaker one day.” She brushes Kate’s hair over one shoulder, running her fingers through the dark locks, affectionate and maternal. 

Kate grits her teeth on a smile, forcing out a polite “thanks” before going to find Seth at the picnic tables by the snack machines. 

“Can’t you just _tell her_ that you didn’t turn her down because of me?” 

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” Seth says in such a dry tone she knows he’ll do no such thing. 

She glares at the side of his head until he lets out a sigh, tossing his empty water bottle in a nearby trashcan. “Look, we’ll get to Uncle Eddie’s, I’ll get her her money, and then we’ll never see her again, alright?” 

“I already paid her.” 

He jerks his head around, looking at her sharply as he demands, “Since when?” 

“Since I got back,” she snaps in annoyance. She raises her chin his continued stare, crossing her arms defensively. “She told me how she got blamed for that job and how much she lost. So I paid her.” 

“Jesus Christ, Kate,” he hisses, “that wasn’t-” He cuts himself off, the muscle along his jaw clenching as he looks away, visibly working through his anger. “You didn’t have to do that,” he says after a long pause, voice dropping until its almost soft. 

“Sure I did,” she replies, her own tension ebbing slowly in time with his. “You’re my partner.” Because he is, she realizes. He was even when she’d gotten into the driver’s seat and driven away from him, and maybe she thought they couldn’t be anymore, but even if she hadn‘t turned that car around and gone back, had driven on until she found her brother on her own and followed wherever that path lead her, Seth would always be her partner. 

He looks back at her, squinting in the watery yellow light from the street lamp before he nods, hesitant and almost nervous. Her heart flips over a little. 

His gaze flicks up and down, studying her like he did when she first asked him if he wanted company, like he’s not quite sure what he’s seeing. Something goes loose and hard at the same time across his features, shoulders squaring and body bending towards her. He catches his teeth along the inner edge of his bottom lip, slowly letting go as he breathes out and he takes a half-step closer. She feels rooted to the spot, pinned in place by the way he’s looking at her, familiar and new all at once. 

“Y’kno-” 

“You two about ready?” 

Kate jumps, heart pounding and feeling oddly caught-out as Sonja stops by her side. She can’t make herself look at Seth, face burning hot as she studies the ground and nods rapidly. 

“Yeah,” he answers, all business once more. “Let’s hit the road.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is shorter than the others, but be nice. The following scene was too big to add to it. Hopefully I made up for its shortness with the ending. :) 
> 
> This is also the first chapter in which I feel that Seth's point of view is would give some helpful insight. At least for about why he's upset over Kate paying Sonja.
> 
> I don’t actually dislike Sonja. I hate what she did, betraying Richie and Seth like that and causing the events that lead to Uncle Eddie’s death (although to be fair to her, she only holds the smallest sliver of blame for that. I blame the man who killed him over the person who happened to have told that man where to go), but mostly I just felt bad for her for getting stuck being Seth’s rebound. She seemed to genuinely like him, and perhaps if they’d met at a different time and under different circumstances they may have had a real shot at a serious, albeit temporary, relationship (because the Gecko brothers have proven that any girl who doesn’t accept both of them will inevitably be pushed out. (I have entire theories about how this is what played a role into Kisa trying to make peace with Seth even after her and Richie were split, because she didn’t realize until it was too late that she should never have allowed them to get so antagonistic with each other while she was with Richie)) Sonja didn’t put up with Seth’s attitude, she cut through his controlling bullshit, and could hold her own in the verbal smack-downs given by the people in his life. There’s a lot to admire about her. Add to that my dislike of setting girls against each other, _ **especially**_ over a guy, and I was genuinely surprised at where this fic headed when I started writing it. 
> 
> If Sonja seems out of character in her antagonizing a teenage girl, try and find a way to trust me and keep in mind that Kate only has part of the story.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My work week is about to start. Before it does, and my ability to post drops too (either because of it or because the unusual pace I've been setting finally dies out as I return to normal) I thought I'd post this chapter. 
> 
> Last chapter was short, this one is long.

They cross the border during the early morning hours, their new IDs barely getting a first glance before they’re waved through. It feels almost anti-climactic after the hoops they went through to get into Mexico, and for the documents themselves. 

A cheap, chain motel comes up before the clock manages to reach two, nicer than the last few Kate and Seth stayed at, and Sonja pulls in before he can utter a protest. 

“You have a preference on your room?” he asks as she throws the vehicle into park, passenger door half-open and looking at Sonja. 

She grins at him, wide and pleased, before pulling some bills out and handing them over with a shake of her head. 

“Whatever they have is fine.” 

He nods once, checking the inner pocket of his jacket and shaking his head when Kate starts to reach into her bag of stolen cash, the only thing either of them still have since being forced to run from Carlos. 

“I got it,” he says softly, avoiding her eye as he ducks out and heads inside. 

Her and Sonja wait for him by the car, neither of them wanting to continue sitting for longer than they have too. Kate’s back pops as she stretches it, feeling worn out and tired despite her lack of physical activity for the past five hours. She’s kept odd hours since driving off with Seth all those months ago, the life of a thief lending itself to a less than regular schedule. The past week has seen something of a return to the typical sleeping patterns she’d grown up with and the events of the day and late hour are catching up to her, causing her limbs to drag and her thoughts to slow. 

“I don't know about you,” Sonja says after a few moments, eyeing Kate’s straw bag, “but all I brought with me was a change of clothes and some make-up.” 

“That's more than I have,” she replies with a sigh. 

A bag cash, a cell phone, and the clothes on her back are all she has to her name. She grimaces, thinking of her sweat dampened shirt with its splatter of tea stains down the front from when the car bumped. Her cardigan might be fine for another wear, although she’s not sure its big enough to be buttoned closed, and her jeans can go another day, but beyond that she has nothing to wear for tomorrow. 

They probably should have stopped for toiletries, maybe some underwear for in the morning, and Kate would love to not have to wear these socks a second time, but she doesn’t want to go back out now that they’re here. Her body wants to crash, and even something like a toothbrush and toothpaste isn’t enough to coax her away from the idea of sleep. 

“Funny how you don't realize how important something is until you don’t have it.” 

Sonja grimaces, nodding in agreement and kicking the toe of her boot against the ground. She’s quiet for a long moment, lost in her thoughts, and when she speaks again she sounds more real, more honest than Kate thinks she’s ever heard her. 

“Why did you do it? Come back for him.” 

Kate opens her mouth before closing it, unsure of the answer. She wants to say she didn’t, that she came back for something else, but she can’t because she _stayed_ for him. It makes very little sense to stay for a man who even when clean has done so much damage. Less, because she stayed for the idea of him, the possibility over the reality. Nothing’s been solved between them, not really. She stills wants to find her brother, wants to reassemble the broken pieces of her family and Seth... doesn’t. She’s been caught up in the joy of renewed connection and ignoring the fact that they still have different goals and have chosen different paths. Worse, because Kate is letting Seth drag her further from hers by bringing her back over the border. 

Seth returns before she can think of how to reply, striding across the parking lot and casting paranoid glances at the shadowy corners in a way that’s familiar and oddly comforting. There’s a generic plastic shopping bag dangling from one arm, dully bouncing against his side as he half-jogs to where they’re waiting. 

“Here you go,” he says, handing a room key to Sonja. He holds another up too Kate, grinning down at her. “And this one’s ours, darlin’.” 

“You two are sharing?” 

There’s not a hint of disproval in her tone, and maybe Kate wouldn’t have noticed anything off about the comment if there hadn’t been that chord of honesty in her voice just a minute before, or maybe she’s extra sensitive after the past week, but something cracks inside her, rearing up and hisses _enough._

“She's right,” she says turning to Seth, voice high and Texan accent coming out thick on her tongue in a way it never does naturally. He presses a hand against the small of her back as she steps closer and she leans into him until it slides around to settle on the curve of her waist. Her own copies his, bumping over his gun to hook onto his side. “We could have gotten a double and let Sonja have the spare bed. Split the cost.” 

Seth looks down at where she’s holding herself carefully, body thrumming with spiked tension and a fragile shell of naivety and innocence painted along her every line and curve. He knows this voice, seen her play this role multiple times when money’s gotten tight and they were too close to the boarder for him to want to risk police attention. She’d put on her girliest top or possibly a dress if she had one that looked young enough, pale blue or baby pink or white, making sure it was something that minimized her older, curvier assets. Finish it with rookie make-up and simple hair until she looked more like a fresh-faced junior high student than a near high school graduate. They’d go out, Seth trailing her from the shadows, and she'd wait for an older man with expensive clothes and a cruel glint in his eye to try and lure her into a dark alley with him. They were easy marks with a lot of cash and untraceable cards who didn’t stir (much) guilt in Kate’s chest when Seth bashed them over the head or shot them. 

She can’t see Sonja’s reaction, refuses to take her eyes off of Seth’s in case she breaks character. She feels on the verge of laughing and screaming at the same time, on the edge of something violent that vibrates in her chest and catches in her throat. 

“I doubt she wants to put up with my snoring,” Seth counters, sliding easily into the story she’s writing. “Or yours for that matter.” 

“I do not snore,” she pouts, wondering only a split second afterward if she should have gone with an eye roll instead. A smile attempts to rise, manic and triumphant, aching in her cheeks as she holds herself steady. She wraps her free hand around the lower lapel of his jacket, tugging on it in an effort to cover her nervous energy and he shifts a bit closer. 

“You do,” Seth teases, squeezing her side gently. His gaze drops low, seeming to stick somewhere below her eyes as he adds, “It’s cute.” 

Excitement thrums under her skin, spiking her blood with vicious anticipation and warming her chest with each stuttered beat of her heart. Her weight shifts to her toes and her fingers twist and tighten around his jacket. She shifts upward, feeling her insides go jittery and giddy and fighting to keep it from showing. 

“It’s fine,” Sonja cuts in quickly and Kate finally breaks her gaze away to look back at her. There are sparks of confusion and discomfort in her eyes, but her mien is almost pleasant. “It’s a Motel 6, not exactly going to break the bank here. But you two might want to be careful.” She flicks a finger between them, flashing teeth in a mockery of a grin. “We’re back in the States now, someone might see and assume the worst. Statutory laws are much harsher here.”

“Let them,” Kate dismisses, smile naively sweet as she lets the words roll off her tongue in that high, thick accent. Seth has gone stiff against her, entire body seeming to lock into place and she wants to glance at him, check on his expression and try and gauge what’s happening behind his eyes, but her gaze is locked with Sonja’s. “The age of consent is seventeen is Texas. I’ve been legal since we crossed the border.” Her smile goes almost sharp as she adds, “And the ID _you_ made me says I’m twenty.”

The smile Sonja returns is hard and angry, and a low harsh noise escapes the back of her throat. It’s a fight for Kate to keep her own grin from turning mean, keeping her eyes soft and lips curled up in the perfect picture of innocence. 

“Then I guess you’re all set.” The words are almost clipped, shaped carefully like they’re spun sugar on Sonja’s tongue but bitten off hard at the end. “I’ll see you two in the morning.” 

She gives them one last glance before snatching up her bag and walks away, boots hitting the asphalt hard with each step. They watch her until she’s disappeared up the steps at the side of the building, shadows swallowing her after a few moments. Seth clears his throat, dropping his hand from her waist taking a small step back as his eyes scan the parking lot around them. 

“What was that?” 

“I am sick and tired of her bullshit,” she replies, still thrumming with something like adrenaline and triumph. “I have _told her_ we aren’t sleeping together.” 

“So what? Now you’re going to say we are?” Seth doesn’t sound accusatory, just curious, and maybe a little cautious. 

“I’m going to let her think whatever she wants,” she says with a nasty sort of smug satisfaction. “In fact, I’m going to encourage it. She wants to say I’m just some kid who’s too young to be screwing around with an older guy? Then fine, that’s _exactly_ what I’ll let her think I am.” She pauses, suddenly unsure. “Unless- Do you not think I should?” 

All her triumphant, self-righteous high crashes down, uncertainty taking its place in a wave of cold chills against her skin. With a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach she begins to realize that perhaps Seth didn’t appreciate being used like that. Like a tool to be wielded and put away at Kate's whim. And not against a woman who had been there for him during a low point and who, as far as Kate’s seen, he’s gotten along fairly well with. Maybe he didn’t want to be put in the middle of her and Sonja’s spat, or have it implied that he was sleeping with a teenager. Have it implied that he was sleeping with _anyone_ to an attractive woman who was clearly interested in him- 

“No, it’s fine,” Seth says with a shrug, cutting off her growing worry. He flicks his gaze up at her, slow smile creasing his cheeks as he lets out a quiet chuckle. “It was a little badass of you, Fuller. Turning all that shit she's been throwing at you back on her.” 

A pleased flush infuses her chest, some of that giddy delight from before bubbling back to the surface, only softer and warmer somehow, and Kate drops her eyes with a smile. 

He turns to lead her to their room, bumping his shoulder against hers lightly when she hurries to catch up. 

“Thought you said you weren’t going to fight for me?” he teases. 

Her grin threatens to become even wider and a gentle warmth infuses her cheeks. 

She gives a mock sniff, sticking her nose in the air and looking at him out of the corner of her eye. “Oh, I’m not. I’m _using_ you to fight her. There’s a difference.” 

He laughs, low and intimate, and he dips his head in a mock nod. “Sure.” 

“I’m not,” she counters. She’s feeling too buzzed from the past few minutes and the late hour to be truly embarrassed by the whine in her voice, heady victory going soft and thick in her veins and mixing sweetly with the lingering warmth of the night air. Or maybe part of it is being home, back under the Texas sky of her birth. Either way it spins her head pleasantly. 

“Uh-huh.” When he bumps her this time he stays close, draping his arm over her shoulders. It feels heavier than it should, drawing her attention to it and making her conscious of the way her own arm bumps into his side ever few steps. He leans down, sending chill bumps across the nape of her neck as his warm breath brushes against her temple, “You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.” 

She shivers, the night air getting harder to breathe as she nods dumbly. She feels on the precipice of something, some piece of knowledge just on the other side of the knife’s edge she's unexpectedly found herself dangling over. Like she’s been running headlong into the dark and didn’t realize it until she’d already lost her footing, suspended in the moment before plummeting downward. 

“You believe what you want.” Her voice comes out weak and breathless, thoughts spinning and catching as they trip towards that cliff’s edge. “I know the truth.” But she doesn’t. Not really. Went looking to repair the relationship with her partner and found something else in its place. 

She has to grab his jacket again as they reach the door to their room, feeling almost drunk and pressing close as he reaches for the key card. There’s a rumble of a low laugh in his chest, vibrating through him and into her. She can smell the remaining traces of his cologne, familiar and suddenly new in the night air, and she feels on the verge of dizzy, tilting her head back to look at him and tracing the lines of his profile as he fumbles with the door’s lock and curses softly. Her heart flips over in her chest, going soft and warm and sort of melting. Her bones feel heavy, exhaustion creeping in and mixing with the thick, buzzing heat in her blood and god, she _wants_... 

He finally opens the door and Kate pushes past him, stumbling into the darkness of their room and over the edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kate is fighting back! And discovering all sorts of things about herself in the process. Ok, so she’s mainly discovering Seth and how he makes her feel, but that’s _something_. Plus, it’s not the only thing she’s discovering. She is learning how she defines herself and challenging societal views on who she is. Which, you know, isn’t a _small_ thing.  
>  This is why I try not to plan. Kate was supposed to come this kind of soft, hazy realization that was all lightness and muted surprise. Instead she went and made it this heavy fall all charged with sexual awareness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was all done and then my muse suddenly went “wait, what about the morning? You have to show the morning,” and then it was too long and I had to rework the end. I can’t say I really love it, but I like it well enough.

“Woah, easy there,” Seth calls after her, flipping on the lights. It’s harsh and jarring after the softness of the night and Kate squints in the glare. She sets her bag down on the first surface she finds, keeping her thoughts careful and her steps slow. 

There are two beds. She hadn’t really expected anything else, despite her taunts to Sonja it’s not common for them to share, but she can’t seem to stop herself from _noticing_ them. Stealing quick glances out of the corner of her eye as she moves to the one furthest from the door and kicks off her shoes. She sits down hard on the edge and stares down at her hands, at her socks, her jean clad knees, anywhere but at Seth. 

“I got us some stuff,” he says, and she can hear the plastic crinkle of the shopping bag as he tosses it onto the dresser. 

She nods, taking a breath and letting it out before reaching up to pull off her cardigan. She lays it flat next to the bag, not wanting it to wrinkle any more than it already is. 

She catches sight of herself in the attached mirror, cheeks flushed and eyes blown wide. She looks drugged out, and Kate wonders if it’s this obvious to others. If Seth could see it painted on her plain as day out in the parking lot. 

“It wouldn’t happen to be pajamas, would it?” The joke sounds flat to her ears, distracted and hallow, but if Seth notices he doesn’t comment. 

There’s a brief rustle before a swath of white fabric lands on her bed spread. She reaches out, touching the men’s button up in something close to confusion. It kicks the slow sludge of her carefully held thoughts into something almost focused and she turns, finally looking at Seth as he toes off his shoes. 

“You can sleep in that,” he says, unbuttoning his slacks and pushing them down until he’s in just his undershirt and boxers. She looks away quickly. “It’s clean enough.” 

“Just the shirt?” 

“What, you want my fucking underwear too?” he asks evenly. 

“No.” she blurts, flushing hotly. “I meant-” She blinks rapidly, feeling flustered and too warm in their air-conditioned room. She grabs his shirt and the plastic bag, managing a mumbled, “Thanks,” as she hurries into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. 

She takes a moment to soothe the hyperaware edge of her nerves, shaking off the last of the clinging awkward embarrassment and filling the sink with water. She uses the cheap bar of motel soap to create some suds, peeling her shirt over her head and tossing it in, determined to give it and her underwear a good scrub before bed. She’d love a shower, to stand under the spray until the world makes sense again and her thoughts settle completely, but it’ll have to wait. 

She shimmies out of her jeans, letting them fall to the floor followed by throwing her bra and socks into the sink. She adds more soap, rubbing the bar vigorously before grabbing the first garment her hand touches and starts to wash it the best she can. 

There’s a couple of toothbrushes, travel sized things of toothpaste and deodorant, and a bottle of Tylenol in the bag. The kinds of things some hotels provide and charge way too much for and she wonders where he got the money to pay for it. She had just assumed he spent what little cash he had taken from her on drugs and the last few days in his hotel room, hadn’t realized he had anything left. 

She hesitates when her thumbs hooked into the waistband of her panties, eyes falling to Seth’s shirt on the edge of the counter. She’s hasn’t slept without bottoms of some kind on in years. Her body has always run on the cooler side, prompting a tendency for multiple layers and long sleep pants, and this feels oddly too far. Like she skipped a step between pajamas and... whatever _this_ is exactly. 

She can't quite quantify what it means, both too her and in the abstract. She’s borrowed boyfriends’ clothes before, wore Kyle’s hoodie all through last winter because she loved him and that’s what girlfriends did. But Seth isn’t her boyfriend, ( _do men his age even go by such labels?_ ) and she’s not in love with him. She cares about him, apparently in ways beyond what she previously assumed, but this isn’t like stealing some guy she’s dating's letterman jacket to wear in the halls between classes. 

She gives her thoughts a shake, reminding herself that beggars can’t be choosers, and quickly pushes her underwear off. She gives them a quick wash in the sink, trembling in the coolness of the bathroom but not wanting to risk the only thing she has left to sleep in when the water splashes over the edge from her movements. She hangs her somewhat clean clothes over the shower curtain rod to dry overnight, figuring it’ll have to do. 

She shivers slightly as she slides his shirt up her arms, jolting at the feeling of the fabric settling against her bare skin. A small flutter dances up her spine at the teasing brush of it against the curve of her ass, mixing pleasantly with the flush spreading down her neck. His shirt dwarfs her, but not as much as she thought it would, the bottom hem sitting high on her upper thighs and the sleeves ending just before her fingertips. She pushes them up to pluck the buttons through the holes, her insides going oddly warm as the garment settles into place. 

It feels almost sinful, the way the fabric moves and brushes over her naked skin, teasing over the peaks of her breasts and the sensitive area on the insides of her thighs where the shirttails curls inward. She catches the faint whiff of Seth’s familiar cologne on the collar and her heart gives a little flip. It could be almost nice, she thinks, like she’s wrapped a piece Seth around her, except she’s all too aware that this is more than taking comfort in someone familiar. 

She takes a breath, trying to shake off the lingering tension and finish preparing herself for bed. 

The room is dark when she reenters, Seth already lying on his back in the bed closest to the door, one arm tossed over his head, the other resting on the slow rise and fall of his chest. The shadows dip and curve along his exposed forearm and throwing the lines of his neck and jaw into sharp relief. 

She crawls under her covers as something sweet and terrifying swirls in her chest. She stares at him, at the familiar angles of his body under the thin sheet and the rough curve of his fingers against his sternum. She can just make out the sweep of his nose through shadows, the curling edges of his upper and lower lip, and her cheeks flush even as her thighs press together. 

She’s always recognized objectively that Seth was attractive. The same way she could acknowledge Santanico was beautiful or understand why Jessica would say that Scott was hot. But there’s a difference between knowing someone is attractive and being attracted to them, and Seth has always fallen on one side of that line. Until now. And maybe if that was all this was she would be OK, could work around it and eventually accept and move past this, but that warm, fluttery feeling rises, a tight squeeze around her heart that speaks of so much more and lets her know exactly how screwed she is. 

It feels like hours before she falls asleep. 

\- 

She wakes to the sounds of the shower running and an empty bed across the room. There’s a pounding behind her eyes, a physical protest against the late night and too short hours of restless sleep, and an irritation at the world under her skin. She wants to roll over and escape back into unconsciousness for a few more hours but the digital clock beside her tells her its already well into late morning. Her stomach grumbles in hungry protest as Kate slips from the bed, blinking groggily in the muted light from the curtained window. 

The shower turns off and Seth appears a few minutes later clad in boxers and pulling his undershirt on over his head. Lingering patches of moisture glue the thin material along the lines of his chest and torso and Kate’s eyes catch and stick for a moment, a faint echo of heat pulsing low in her stomach. 

He pauses when he sees her, gaze flicking down to her bare feet before coming back up to her sleep mussed hair. 

“Sleeping Beauty finally wakes,” he greets almost cheerfully and Kate scowls at him. Seth, she’d discovered shortly into their life on the road, is a morning person. Even when hungover he’s able wake-up fairly alert and ready to get moving, while Kate has always needed time to shed the lingering effects of sleep. “Get dressed. Breakfast ends in forty-five minutes.” 

“Yeah yeah,” she mumbles, rolling her eyes as she heads towards the now vacant bathroom. 

She finds her clothes folded haphazardly on the bathroom counter, pausing with a flash of muted embarrassment at the sight of her underwear sitting on top of her jeans. It’s ridiculous, Seth must have seen every article of clothing she owns at some point or another, either when doing laundry or because life in one room motels doesn’t leave a lot of space for modesty, but there’s something about knowing he had to pull her delicates down from the top of the shower curtain that leave her self-conscious and eyeing the simple faded green cotton critically. 

She shakes it off, brushing her teeth and using the restroom quickly before pulling on her panties and jeans. Her shirt from the day before is full of weird wrinkles and her bra still too damp from where the lightly padded cups absorbed their fair share of water and she hesitates only a moment before shoving them both in the plastic shopping bag. Folding the sleeves of Seth’s shirt up to her elbows and removing the smudges of make-up from below her eyes go a long way to making her look presentable, but she still morns the loss of her few cosmetics and face wash. Or god, even a hairbrush, running her fingers through her hair only does so much. 

Seth’s brows knit together when he sees her, but he doesn’t comment. He watches her though, throwing on his suit jacket and buttoning it closed as Kate pulls on her socks and shoes, something thoughtful and a bit intense behind his eyes. It reminds her a little of the way he'd case a potential score, half-lost in the calculations and newly revealed details, and she fights a shiver, looking away as she ties her laces and stands.

“C’mon,” she mutters, shoving what little possessions they have into the bottom of her bag. “I’m hungry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bad news is I spent the last seven days sick and unable to get myself to write more than a few words. The good news is that I feel a lot better. And yesterday I sat down and wrote close to fifteen hundred words on this thing... most of its for much later chapters though. 
> 
> Originally the beginning of this chapter was the end of the other one, but when I reworked chapter four, this one had to be as well.  
> Hope it was worth the wait!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am tentatively guessing that this fic is going to be somewhere between 10-20 chapters. (I refuse to narrow it down more than that because I’m always wrong by about half.)

It's been a while since she’s been in a place that provides a complimentary breakfast and she’s trying to enjoy it, but the unhappy throb behind her eyes is still there and her irritation, while fading, hasn’t gone away completely. 

Seth sits to her left, having moved the chairs around to his satisfaction after she'd chosen a table, with sunglasses on and glancing suspiciously at strangers like they’re all secretly undercover cops. Being back in the States has not improved his paranoia and Kate wishes she didn’t find it so endearing. 

“You keep staring like that you’re going to give me ideas,” he says without looking at her. She rolls her eyes, even as her cheeks go slightly pink at being caught, watching him shovel another bite of eggs into his mouth. Both his arms bracket his breakfast like he has to protect it from prying eyes. _Or like a man who’s been to prison,_ she thinks wryly. 

She has to squash the urge to try and steal a slice of his bacon at the thought, wonders if he’d let her, what he’d read into the move. It's not something she’d have questioned before last night, would have just done it and grinned cheekily at him when he grumbled or glared. 

He turns his head, catching her eye and studying her back behind his dark lenses when she holds his gaze. “You pissed about something?” 

“Just a headache,” she says, wincing as she takes another sip of her too bitter coffee. She hasn’t yet developed a taste for it, to find the right combo of cream and sugar to make it something she enjoys, but the morning has been far too rough to not take advantage of its more helpful properties. 

“There’s-” 

“Morning.” 

They both turn to find Sonja standing at their table, a bagel in one hand and steaming cup in the other. She looks annoyingly put together, beaded top cut low and flattering on her figure and her freshly washed hair falling effortlessly around her lightly made-up face. 

Her gaze flicks over Kate, dropping to her top before darting to Seth for a split second. 

“We really should get you some more clothes,” she says with faux sympathy, and Kate fights the urge to snap back that she likes what clothes she has just fine, thanks. 

Beside her Seth wipes his mouth with a napkin, tossing it down onto his empty plate and leaning back. He throws an arm over Kate’s chair, fingers curling to press against her upper arm. Her breath attempts to catch and stutter in her chest, and she takes a careful sip of her orange juice in an effort to hide it. 

“Probably,” she admits on a sigh, letting her irritation at the comment go. Besides, she’d been thinking something similar since she got ready this morning. 

Sonja smiles, slow and measured, something too knowing in her gaze. 

"Let’s get going then.” 

\- 

They stop by a convivence store on the way back to the highway, picking up some essentials and enough clothes for each of them for the next few days. Kate ducks into the bathroom to change after they make their purchases. 

Seth’s waiting for her when she steps out and she thinks for one wild, brief moment that he’s there for his shirt. That he somehow sensed her guiltily shoving it into the bottom of her new bag in a bid and half-wish that he’d forget about it and was here to demand it back. 

“If you want,” he says slowly when she gets closer, gaze flicking briefly over her new dark purple tee and thin white pullover before glancing away with a squint, “we could just take off. Boost one of those jacked-up trucks out there and head off to Uncle Eddie’s on our own. What’d you say?” 

Her lips part in surprise, whipping her head around to look in the direction of the parking lot. She can’t see it from here, nothing but a painted brick wall and some old black and white photos she’s sure has some significance to the place, but can picture it. Full of four-wheel drive vehicles with horns on the grill and mud on their tires. 

It’s tempting, sending a little nervous thrill through her not unlike the first time she helped on a job, but Kate knows Texans, knows the types of men who own those vehicles and what they’ll do to keep them. And while Seth may be legally dead, they don’t need the risk that comes with a stolen car. Especially not with half the cops and rangers ready to be riled up at one hint of Gecko blood. 

Her lips quirk up in a wistful half smile, and she leans closer without thought until she’s fully in his space, dropping her voice low and conspiring. 

“I wish we could. But it's probably isn’t smart. Not here." 

He lets out a humorless laugh, something reluctant and almost desperate beneath. 

“Damn understatement,” he murmurs under his breath. 

She doesn’t think she was meant to hear, hadn’t realized how close they’re standing until she looks up and finds him _right there._ He’s near enough she see can something flicker in the back of his eyes, the subtle parting of his lips catching her attention. She wants to reach out and press the pad of her thumb against the fullness of his lower lip, feel the edge of his teeth scrape against her skin, the moist heat of his tongue flicking out to taste her. The vivid image shakes through her middle in a tremble and she blinks as it settles firmly in the center of her awareness. 

Her breath does a little hitch in her chest, cheeks going warm and she quickly leans away from him, one foot sliding a few inches backwards to take her weight. 

“We should get back." 

Her words come out high and a little rushed and a knowing smile curls the edges of his mouth as his gaze follows her retreat. 

“Just say the word, darlin’,” he sort of tilts towards her, voice going low and teasing, but with something hinting at serious just below.

She nods, not trusting herself to speak, and not entirely certain what he’s offering but thinks she could, if she wanted to.

He falls into place by her side, hand settling heavy and familiar just above the small of her back until his fingertips flirt with the downward curve of her waist, steady pressure guiding her back to the parking lot. She tries not to read too much into it.

Seth has always been tactile. She noticed it when they were in the Twister, before the monsters came out and her world turned upside down once more. He has little to no concept of personal space, crowding close to Richie or her or her father. But not Scott for some reason. It was Richard who took notice of the youngest Fuller. She wonders what that means, the splitting of fascination the Gecko boys took to her family. What it was about her and her dad that drew in Seth while his brother’s focus fell on Scott and her? Wonders if it's just coincidence that she’s the overlap or if speaks of something deeper. 

Sonja is waiting by the car, sunglasses perched on her nose in the afternoon sun and checking her phone. She looks up as they approach, her smile fading when as she takes in their positions, and Kate feels that mean little thrill of satisfaction in her chest. 

She smiles, sweet and full of small-town goodwill, channeling every time she had to greet a church-goer with a welcoming spirit while feeling less than holy herself, before deliberately drawing her brows together in faux concern and letting her smile drop away. 

“Is something wrong?” 

“No,” Sonja replies, giving a fake smile of her own back, “nothing at all.” 

\- 

They’re an hour outside Houston when they stop for fuel and a different kind of essential. 

“Stay in the car,” Seth says, leaning through the door to pin his gaze to hers. She freezes slightly, glancing at the rundown building with a critical eye. She knows that tone, recognizes the way he moves towards the front door with confident steps and a sweeping gaze. 

“What’s he doing?” Sonja asks, plopping herself back into the driver’s seat after filling the tank. 

She debates just a moment not telling her, of hording this little secret to herself, but knows that’s not the smartest move. Not to their driver. 

“He’s picking up some extra cash,” she says softly, still watching the front of the store. “Or at least, he will if the place looks good for it.” 

It’s a cheap little building, set off the highway a bit and with only two gas pumps. Probably no cameras around, one man behind the register. It’s a little early for optimal cash return, not quite one in the afternoon, and places like this never carry more than a few hundred on hand, the rest tucked into a safe. 

“Motherfucking idiot,” Sonja hisses, and part of Kate wants to agree. They have cash, granted she’s down to nearly thirty-five hundred, and are nearly to Uncle Eddie’s who, according to Seth, always has a decent score he can hook his nephews up with. But Seth is funny about money, about who exactly pays for what, and she saw the way his fingers twitched when she paid for their clothes, the clenching of his jaw when she pulled out cash for snacks. 

A few minutes later Seth comes back out, practically buzzing with a job well done. His gun is naked in his hand but she’d heard no shots fired and he’s not running, and she feels something in her relax. 

Kate can’t stop the smile that grows as he gets closer, that odd bit of pride she gets when he succeeds mixing with relief and making her feel giddy. She leans forward between the seats as he slides back in, checking him over even as she feels drawn to the energy he exudes. 

He grins, eyes sparking with excitement as Sonja starts up the car and pulls away. 

“It go well?” But Kate knows it did. There’s no rush, no peeling out of the lot on a squeal of tires or him yelling at them to hit the gas. 

“Like fucking magic,” he says. Kate has to grab his seat as Sonja takes the turn too sharply, Seth bumping a bit closer. “I’m telling you, babe, hasn’t been that damn perfect since before things went to shit for us in Mexico.” 

He smiles at her, entire body leaning closer and one hand coming up to flutter by her face, and for one wild moment Kate thinks he’s going to touch her, cup her jaw in his hand the way he’s done only once before, when he was drunk and slurring something about getting shot. 

“And here I thought the Gecko brothers were big leagues.” 

Sonja’s voice cuts through their little bubble, Kate whipping back to look at the woman in surprise. Her words are directed at Seth, but its underlined with the same cutting tone she seems to save for Kate. 

“The great Seth Gecko,” she continues, hands tight around the wheel, “caught up in something so... small-town.” 

“What can I say,” he replies, all casual and relaxed, the energy from before wrapped up tight as his gaze pins itself to the outside world, “I’m a man of varied tastes.” 

“I’m starting to see that,” Sonja says tightly. 

A theory worms its way through her thoughts, sparked by the memory of one of the first conversations her and Sonja had and growing under the possible double-speak happening before her now. That maybe Seth’s the one using her. Placing Kate between himself and Sonja’s advances, the way he's done for her when strange men would get too friendly. It should be a silly thought, ridiculous to think a man like Seth would need protection from unwanted female attention, but the more she turns it over in her mind and the more she finds it weirdly fitting. 

“Well you don’t have to put up with it much longer, do you?” he says, something dismissive and almost cruel in his tone. 

With careful deliberation, Kate releases her grip on the front seats, letting herself settle in the back. Seth catches her eye when she looks up, studying her a moment before deciding she’s alright. 

Sonja only hums in response, refusing to look at either of them as she focuses on driving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I rewatched season 2 to get a feel for the timeline and making sure all my ducks where in a row, and I about had a heart attack when I realized Kate arrived back at Bethel before Seth and Sonja make it to Uncle Eddie’s. But after some math, creative thinking (because heroin withdrawal takes ten days, and yet we only saw for sure one pass on the show, so therefore I can decide that more time passes than what we see on screen), and playing on Google Maps, I have it!
> 
> You guys also have no idea how close I came to a "Seth tries to seduce Kate outside the bathroom" scene before I wrestled it into submission. I may be a pantser when it comes to writing, but I have a semi-timeline for this thing and that doesn't fit there!
> 
> The next chapter is in bits and pieces (STRIKE THAT. Next chapter is done! XD) and I'm afraid I might have to delete one whole scene between Kate and Sonja that I really like, but don't see how it can fit before they reach Uncle Eddie's. *sigh* Maybe I can put find a way to fit it in later....? Even if I have to heavily edit it and cut out chunks.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uncle Eddie!

They pull up outside Fast Eddie’s Color TV Repair shop before three, and Kate’s excitement renews itself, mixing with a nervous flutter in her stomach. She’s anxious to get out of the car, to have a chance to use the bathroom and to get away from the uncomfortable tension of the last hour. 

Seth’s taken to near silence after Sonja’s comment at the gas station and Kate’s stuck to idle chit-chat when she must. She’s never had much of a problem with silences, even the awkward ones, but Sonja had spent the first half-an-hour biting out harsh barbs about Seth’s stubborn immaturity and the last half trying to mend fences, asking Kate friendly questions about herself and tentatively teasing both of them. 

“Thanks for the ride,” Seth says dismissively before Sonja can open the door, holding his seat forward so Kate can climb out from the back. 

“Really?” Sonja grounds out, shoving herself from the car and stomping after him. “I drive you all this way and don’t even get invited in for a cup of coffee?” 

Seth jerks around, features tight with anger and jabbing a finger sharply at her. “I don’t even know why you’re still here. You got your money so what the hell is this? You trying to play with the big boys? Hanging around one half of the famous Gecko brothers get you your kicks, is that it? What the fuck do you want?” 

“You’re a goddamn asshole,” Sonja snaps back. “Thinking you’re some big shot, when really you’re nothing but a piece of shit loser who can’t get by without his brother. Why don’t you go fuck off back to the hole you crawled out of. Save the rest of us the trouble of putting up with your junkie-ass.” She turns to Kate, “Do yourself a favor and get the hell out while you can. Before the ‘great Seth Gecko’ gets you both killed.” 

Kate stands there, shocked and a little shaken by the sudden shift between them, and the unintended echo of that painful night from just a week ago as Sonja stomps back to her car, throwing herself into the driver’s seat and slamming the door behind her. 

They watch her disappear around a corner, Kate shifting uncomfortably as the sounds of the engine fades into the distance before turning to study a silent Seth. 

“You OK?” 

“Just peachy, Kate.” 

She winces at his even tone, but he doesn’t sound as angry as he did. She wonders at that, knows exactly how quick Seth’s temper can rise and fall, but in her experience his cool down period is typically a bit longer. 

“She was-” She stops, looking for the words she’d rather use. “I thought you were friends.” 

Seth snorts, looking at her with an almost smile curling the edges of his lips, lingering tension easing from his shoulders. 

“That’s cute,” he half-murmurs. He looks down, letting out a quiet chuckle as he shakes his head. He gives one last look in the direction Sonja disappeared before turning to face her fully. “She was never meant to come with us, Kate. Not this far.” He shrugs, squinting off into the distance before adding, “She was too fucking nosy. Didn't know when to mind her own damn business.” 

Kate raises her brows, dipping her chin in skeptical surprise. Seth’s not exactly Mr. Secrets, seems to enjoy telling stories of past accomplishments and deeds to just about anyone who will listen. There are certain sensitive topics of course, his brother naturally, and to some extent Kate, but Seth’s never been particularly quiet about who he is or what he’s done. 

He can be possessive sometimes. Doesn’t like anything, any _one_ , he perceives as a threat to his place in his partner’s life. She still vividly remembers the way he grabbed her forearm after Rafa left their motel room, pulling her into his space and leaning in close. How he locked his eyes with hers, and reminded her that they were leaving the next day. Just the two of them. 

_“We don’t have time for any romance-novel shit, alright? After we do the job and I grab our papers, we’re gone and lover boy is history. We clear?”_

But Sonja and Kate hadn’t exactly had a budding friendship between them, quite the opposite in fact. Seth had been the only thing tying them together from the beginning. And she doubts the last half-hour of shallow chit-chat was enough to get Seth thinking Sonja was out to steal her away. 

“Kinda surprised she stayed as long as she did, to be honest,” Seth says, pulling Kate from her thoughts. 

“Maybe she didn’t have anywhere else to go.” 

Seth shrugs. “Not our problem.” 

Something flutters in her chest at his inclusion of her with him, even while part of her frowns at the casual dismissal of another’s feelings so easily. She knows Seth’s affections are limited, that a person either matters to him or doesn’t and there isn’t a lot of room inbetween, but Kate’s not made that way. Was raised to think of others before herself and can’t quite understand how Seth can just not care about someone who helped him through such a low point in his life. And maybe part of it has to do with the reminder of their own recent fight, the way he turned around and walked away from her without even trying to convince her to stay. That small, still bleeding part of her making itself known and asking if she’s next. If their history is doomed to repeat itself. 

“C’mon.” He gestures to the shop, grabbing Kate's attention with a jerk of his head towards the side of the building. “I know where Eddie keeps his spare key.” 

“It's the middle of the day,” Kate reminds him, “Can’t we just knock on the front door?” 

He shoots her a look, pausing to glance back at the side alley before grumbling out a “yeah, sure.” 

A bell jingles as he presses the front door open with one hand, gesturing with the other for Kate to go in before him. 

The light is muted inside, every surface seemingly covered in old TVs and various parts she can only assume belong to televisions, the air smelling of dusty history in the way of old thrift stores and long-established mom-and-pop shops. It reminds her of a bit of a few places back home, the kind her parents liked to visit because the owners were members of their congregation and they needed to show their support. A soft pang of old grief twists her heart, muted by the gentle fondness of pleasant memories. 

“Eddie!” Seth calls as a man steps into view, taking a few steps foward and tossing his arms out, grin full of charismatic charm. 

Uncle Eddie is almost exactly how Kate pictured, down to the bold printed shirt left open over a white tank and the sullen expression, and her lips tug up of their own accord at seeing the man in the flesh for the first time. 

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, flicking his gaze between Seth and Kate with guarded curiosity before speaking, pinning a look to his nephew with a familiar squint to his blue eyes. 

“You hanging around middle schools now? Showing up here with Gidget?” She blinks, almost offended until he turns to her and smiles kindly. “Let me apologize for whatever shit for brains has done to drag a sweet little thing like you into whatever trouble he’s gotten himself into this time, Miss...?” 

“Kate,” she says, grinning back at him, “and he didn’t drag me into this. I asked to come.” 

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, Miss. Kate,” he says, taking the necessary steps forward until he’s standing before her, “but how old are you?” 

She blinks, smile fading as she glances at Seth quickly, unsure on how to answer. She opens her mouth to lie, a nice solid, legally adult number sitting on her tongue, but he must see something in the way she moves or recognize the questioning look she sent Seth’s way because he turns back to his nephew with a hard glare. 

Seth holds a hand up, palm out in something like surrender, and gives his most charming of smiles as he rushes to smooth any ruffled feathers. 

“C’mon. Eddie. You know me, this isn’t-” 

“You’re damn right I do,” Uncle Eddie says, anger clear in his tone. Seth flinches, looking away even as his shoulders stiffen. “I’d expect this kind of shit from your brother, but you’re not usually this big of a dumbass. Jesus, her parents know where she is?” 

“My parents are dead,” she says, steel and that ever-present fed-up frustration infusing her tone. “And I am tired of people looking at me like my age somehow makes a difference in what decisions I can and can’t make.” 

“Listen, hon-” 

“No, you listen,” Kate says, cutting Eddie off with a hard glare. “I have come too far and been through way too much to let anyone decide my fate but me. I am here because I want to be, and if you think for one second that I have any less of a right to make my own decisions in my own damn life just because I’m a few months shy of eighteen than that’s on you, but don’t you dare try and take those decisions from me or you are just as bad as whatever your misguided judgment is trying to protect me from.” 

Eddie stares at her with an unreadable expression, something akin to surprise and new contemplation flickering behind his eyes. 

“Well I’ll be damned,” he mutters, studying her a moment longer before he turns back to Seth, something new and curious and thoughtful in his features. 

She looks at Seth, meeting his gaze as he stares at her. Her breath catches a little at the look in his eyes, soft and a little proud and underlined with a heat she almost recognizes. He tears his gaze from her to face his uncle, giving a helpless little shrug even as something defiant sharpens the line of his jaw and hardens his eyes. 

“Shit, boy,” Uncle Eddie softly hisses. He takes a breath, seeming to settle himself, before his shoulders relax and he pins his nephew with a lighter, kinder look. “Want to tell me what you’re doing here?” 

“Can’t I come to visit an old friend?” 

Eddie turns towards her, rolling his eyes in parental affection. “He only comes calling when he needs something.” 

“That’s just not true.” 

“And right now he’s going to flash that shit-eating grin of his.” Behind him Seth’s smarmy smile drops. “I swear, him and his brother are just alike sometimes. Bet he’s looking for a job too.” 

“Richie was here?” Kate can’t keep the little thread of happy curiosity from her tone. 

She cuts her gaze to Seth, fighting the wince as the shock and quickly buried hurt that flashes across features. She knows how much it wounds him to hear his brother’s name. 

Eddie gives her another thoughtful look. 

“About two days ago,” he answers. “Came in asking if I could hook him up with a connection of mine.” He turns towards Seth, pointing at her. “Does she...?” 

“She’s in,” Seth says with a dismissive wave of his hand, aggravation clear in every line of his body as he takes a step forward. “What do you mean ‘hook him up?’ What kind of job was he looking for?” 

“He was looking to make a connection with some no-good bastards, that’s what.” Uncle Eddie’s voice rises, an accusing finger pointed at Seth, “You were supposed to look out for him.” 

Kate bites her tongue, surreptitiously looking around the shop and squirming in discomfort. 

“He made his choice,” Seth bites out, half turning in defensiveness. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Kate says softly, not wanting to get between the two of them as they square off but not having much of an option, “but do you have a bathroom I could use?” 

She’s been holding it since they got to Houston, not wanting to ask Sonja to stop, but she’s seen what Seth’s like when conversation turns to his brother and can only assume Uncle Eddie is the same way. She needs to cut in before either of them really get going and she’s left to completely fend for herself. 

“Where are my manners?” Uncle Eddie turns to her, all smiles and dropped tension once more as he sweeps his arm further into the shop. “Right this way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this theory that since Richie doesn’t make connections easily that when he does, he grows a bit attached regardless of the person’s age. That’s what Uncle Eddie was referring to when he says he expects this kind of shit from Richie. He’s probably come home before with an age-inappropriate friend in tow that he’s refused to give up no matter how much Seth and Eddie tell him it looks bad to outsiders. Rather older or younger than him, when Richie develops a connection to someone, he clings a bit.
> 
> In case it's not clear, Uncle Eddie is in no way mad at Kate (and she pretty much proved his anger at Seth unfounded when she put him in his place). And they actually get a chance to talk in the next chapter! But there's no way Eddie was going to be too happy about Seth showing up with someone who already looks younger than her seventeen years, and when your grown ass, on-the-run-from-the-law, late-twenty-something nephew shows up with a girl who's clearly underaged, you ask questions. In Eddie's mind, Seth should know better than to take a minor across state lines... or rather country lines. Or hell anywhere against her legal guardian’s will. It’s called kidnapping and it’s illegal. Except Kate’s parents are dead and she’s close enough to eighteen, and there of her own will, that most law enforcement officers wouldn't bat an eye... if Seth wasn’t also a wanted felon and 10+ years older than her. And hadn't technically taken her against her will at gun point not 24 hours before running off with her into Mexico. And hadn't killed or helped kill all those people before grabbing her... Man, it looks bad from an outsider's perspective, doesn't it?  
> (Uncle Eddie also sorta knows. Because he saw the look Seth gave Kate after she snapped at him and, well, he's not an idiot.)
> 
> This chapter was originally two scenes... until I checked the word count and realized it was way too long. But hey, at least I got two chapters written when I thought I only had one.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I officially know how this thing is going to go! All the way to the end! I have random scenes and partial chapters all set up. Still no real idea of how many chapters it’ll be, except probably...maybe... hopefully? less than twenty.

There is no real distinction between Uncle Eddie’s shop and his living quarters. Televisions and old parts spill into the spaces behind a simple “Employees Only” door that separate the two areas, giving the feeling of one cohesive whole. 

Kate finds Uncle Eddie and Seth discussing work in the open area office and living room, having moved past whatever little argument they were having. Or maybe they’re always like that. Seth and Richie had fought a lot in the short time Kate had witnessed them together, even getting physical on occasion. It took her over a month and a lot of stories from Seth before she realized that was one of the ways they communicated and not warning signs of their fracturing relationship. It's a strange concept for a girl who grew up with every real argument between her and brother being cut short by parents who insisted they were supposed to get along. 

“I’m going to need that shirt back, princess,” Seth says, glancing up as she enters. 

Her cheeks threaten to warm and she nods quickly, swinging her bag into an overstuffed arm chair and digging into it. 

“It might be a little wrinkled,” she warns. 

“Nothing a tumble in the drier won’t fix,” Uncle Eddie replies, coming around his desk as she pulls out the button up. “A trick I learned back in seventies. Toss a wet rag into the drier, and save yourself an ironing.” He grins at her, friendly and infectious, and Kate can’t help but smile back as she hands him Seth’s shirt. 

He disappears down a hallway and Kate wanders over to the table Seth is at, head bent to study some papers. She folds her hands together, resting them on the table top and glancing at the list of facts of figures. 

“Is it a good score?” 

Seth laughs, cleaner and lighter than she’s heard from him in way too long, maybe ever, and she’s reminded that this is what he does, what he loves to do. It’s a part of him. Not the drugs and the pain and the grief, the latter of which is still there, but _this_. The planning and the challenge of it all, finding the perfect rhythm and timing to pull it off and finishing it with his own special touch. 

She can’t stop the fond smile from curling her lips, watching that flash of teeth, the happy little crinkle in the corner of his eye that she doesn’t remember seeing before. Maybe because she didn’t care for him then the way she does now, when he was still just something familiar to cling to after her world had fallen apart so completely, someone who understood. The only person really who could ever even begin to understand. Or maybe there was just too much before, with the trauma and running and bitterness, smothering any bit of happiness he found until all that was left was the broken, angry man she knew best in the end. 

“Yeah, it's a good one,” he says as he looks up at her. Something flashes through his eyes as he studies her, an awareness that sends a pulse through her chest and lower. Kate blinks and looks away, nodding her head. 

“We’re probably going to be staying here for a day or so,” he continues, clearing his throat, “until I get us some cash and figure out our next move.” 

She nods again, thoughts slowly turning towards those tentative plans she made a week ago, before a twist of fate sent her right back to Seth and this life of theirs. She wonders where she’d be now if she hadn’t turned around. If she’d be any closer to finding her brother or if something else would have pulled her from her goal. 

“I don’t know how long I’ll be out,” he says, tearing her from her thoughts and bringing her gaze back to him, “don’t wait up for me.” She nods, trying to mentally calculate the time. It can’t be more than four and worry shoots through her at the idea of this job running that long. “Our room is down the hall,” he points back where she came in at, “just two doors before the bathroom.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” 

“This is really more of a one-man job, Kate.” He looks at her, sees the beginning of a protest rising to her lips and adds, “It's not even a smash-and-grab. It’s a negotiation, and I’m playing the middle-man. I have to look like I can do it on my own or they won’t want to pay-up and then things really will get violent.” 

She nods slowly, still not exactly happy about it but not wanting to argue either. He knows what he’s doing, she reminds herself. Was doing it long before she can into the picture. 

“Hey,” he says firmly, putting down his papers and steeping closer. “It’ll be fine. I used to pull these kinds of jobs when I was just starting out. This is bush league.” He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, fingers brushing against the outer edge of her jaw. Something pings through her, a tingling rush from the spot he touched spreading down her neck and across her chest. 

“OK,” she half-whispers, looking up to meet his eyes, sees the question there and adds, “I believe you.” 

He opens his mouth to say something before shutting it, glancing behind her as Uncle Eddie enters with Seth’s now wrinkle-free button up in hand. 

“Good as new,” Eddie calls cheerfully. 

Seth smiles, cocky and confident, eyes sparkling with the beginning of pre-job excitement, and turns to accept his shirt from Uncle Eddie. 

\- 

Kate can’t decide who Uncle Eddie reminds her of more: Seth or Richie. At first, she sees mainly Seth, in the squint they both seem to make when trying to figure someone out, the love of hand gestures, and bit of charm that seems to underline their lighter moments. But Richie’s there too, in the look in his blue eyes as he studies those around him and the way he crosses his wrists when he leans against a table. Comparatively, she barely spent any time with Richard, even as intense as it was. She doesn’t know his little idiosyncrasies and tells the way she does Seth’s. It makes her wonder what else she’d notice of Richie in Uncle Eddie, if she’d had the chance to know both Geckos equally. 

“So how did you come to get mixed up with the likes of that dumbass?” 

He hands her a cup of coffee, well-bred manners keeping Kate’s tongue from confessing her dislike of the drink. She grabs a couple little packets of sugar, adding a generous amount as she tries to think of an answer. This isn’t a friendly stranger she came across in Mexico, or even a well-meaning, gossipy old woman, the type who always seem to take one look at her and Seth and think there’s a scandalous love story hidden in their past, who she can just spout off a random tale too. This is Seth’s family, and she’s not comfortable lying to him about this. 

“He sort of...” she shifts uncomfortably, wishing he was here to find a way to spin the truth into an acceptable tale instead of working. “It’s hard to explain. We didn’t exactly have the best beginning.” 

“That don’t surprise me in the slightest,” Eddie says with a rough chuckle. 

She shrugs, taking a sip of her cooling coffee and wincing at the too sweetness of it. 

“Alright, alright, don’t tell me,” he grouses. “I’m just the guy who raised ‘em, but what do I know?” He waves his cup in a small loop through the air. “You know anything about what happened between him and Richie? ‘Cause he sure as shit ain’t tellin’ me.” 

She nods, glad for the change in topic. 

“Just bits and pieces. I didn’t actually see their fight, only what Seth told me after. And I haven’t seen Richie at all since they split up, but...” She looks down at her drink, remembering those first weeks on the road, the spare moments Seth felt like talking about what happened. “I know he feels like Richie picked that woman over him, Santanico, and I know that hurt him. But I think part of _why_ he’s so hurt is because Richie didn’t ask him to come with them.” She looks up at Uncle Eddie, sees him watching her with that penetrating gaze that reminds her so much of both brothers. “He really misses him. He won’t admit it, but he does.” 

“Seth’s a stubborn bastard like that. They both are. Two of the hardest headed sons of bitches I ever met.” 

“You’re telling me,” she says, taking another polite sip of her coffee. 

He shakes his head when she fights a grimace, holding out his hand for her mug. He dumps the contents down the sink, rinsing the cup out and setting it to dry on a towel. 

“He doesn’t seem to have done too bad for himself though,” he tells over his shoulder, using the French press to begin making a new batch of coffee. 

“Maybe now,” Kate says with a soft snort. “But for a while after he was a mess. He’d completely given up on family and love, the only things that really matter in the end. He was in really dark place afterwards. He seems better now, but he only recently started to putting himself back together.” Her brows furrow, one hand coming up and touching her cross as her thoughts turn to her own brother. “They’re so much better together, and not just,” she waves a hand in the air, “at what they do, but everything. Who they are is better. They need each other.” 

_God wants them together,_ she thinks. And maybe it’s wrong for her to think such a thing, to look at a pair of criminal brothers and see how they shine best when together and declare it the will of God, but the world is full of many more shades of gray than Kate had previous believed. Perhaps God is more complicated than she thought as well. Or maybe it’s that all she was taught about God and His will has been filtered through the eyes of men who tried to conform Him into their own image. Stuck seeing Him through the narrow vision of her congregation and its only now that she’s away from them that she’s free to know God on her own. To tear away the opaque veil of what others say is right and holy, look at God with clear eyes and discover what is true for herself. 

“You’re preaching to the choir, sister.” 

She can’t stop the painful little laugh at the idiom, fingers clenching around her mama’s cross. 

“Richie told me when we met that he thought we were all brought together for a reason. I didn’t believe him then. Didn’t understand how it was God’s will that my family was put in the path of these bad men, but now I think he might be right.” She looks down, runs a finger across the chipped varnished table top in a nonsensical swirl. “I was separated from my brother at the same time Seth and Richie were.” She pauses before confessing solemnly, “I left Scott behind.” Her biggest failure, that selfish choice she made to not even try and look for him after finding the exit with Ranger Gonzalez. “And it took me a while to see past my anger at everything he did and start to regret what _I_ did. I think Seth might already regret his fight with Richie, but is still too angry to see it. And that maybe he needs to not be alone in that. Needs to see that it's OK to both be the person who needs forgiveness and who gives it.” 

And maybe she did too. Needed to see how much it hurt Seth to be withhold his forgiveness from his brother to be able to forgive her own. That by witnessing each other’s suffering they could learn how to heal those wounds in themselves. 

She looks up, wondering if she’s making any sense or if she sounds like a naive church girl, and sees Eddie watching her with something soft and prideful and a little in awe. It flashes through her in a wave of self-consciousness, too much like how her daddy looked at her before he died and not enough at the same time. 

“You’re clearly too good for the likes of a Gecko, Katie” he tells her with a soft laugh, a little rough and far too wistful, “but, for what it’s worth, I am damn glad you’re here.” 

She smiles, letting herself absorb the compliment before saying softly, “Me too.” 

He sets a new mug before her, swirls of milk settling it into a rich brown color. 

“Now try this one,” he says. 

She takes a careful sip, letting it sit on her tongue before swallowing. 

“Best cup of coffee I’ve ever had,” she says, and not a lie. It _is_ the best cup of a coffee she’s ever had, creamy and smooth and with a smoky richness to it she’s never tasted in the drink before. She still can’t say she actually likes it, but it’s much more tolerable. 

“You're a sweet kid,” he mutters, shaking his head at her. “But let’s find you something you’ll actually like.” He opens the fridge, glancing inside and calling to her over his shoulder. “I think I have some cranberry juice left. Or a beer, if you want.” She shakes her head as he glances at her. “Not sure- ah-ha!” He pulls a familiar box from a cabinet. “Hot chocolate.” 

Her phone chimes in her bag as she nods with a grateful smile. She grabs it, pulling up her texts and frowning in confusion at the sender. Her heart starts to pound as she reads over Jessica’s message, feeling something like hope leap and twist inside her. 

Scott’s come home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I debated for a while about posting this chapter. I wanted to get 8, 9, and 10 all complete (which they are technically done) and be working on 11 and 12, but then I kept making small edits and cuts and adding little lines and... I’m not sure it was ever actually going to be finished so instead I gave myself deadlines for each of those chapter and will only let myself edit until then. Maybe then I'll have shaken this funky "I hate all my writing" mood.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my longest AN yet I believe. 
> 
> Some of you seem to be concerned about Seth and Kate having a repeat of that side of the road scene at the beginning of season two. I may have responded with some mild spoilers for upcoming chapters to some of those comments. You guys took me by surprise, I wasn’t expecting such an influx of worried sentiments and sort of scrambled to answer, and I'm sorry if I let something slip that you'd rather have waited to find out.  
> If you would like to avoid any and all spoilers for upcoming chapters, don’t read the following numbered points. I will try and keep them to a minimum, mostly just hints, but it’s impossible to be entirely spoiler free when trying to put someone’s mind at ease on where a story is going. If knowing what Kate's going to decide about Scott beforehand isn't something you want to know, then skip to the rest of this AN :)  
> 1\. I’ve never liked stories -whether movies, books, fics, etc (tv shows can get away with it more)– where a relationship develops early on only to fall apart due to miscommunication, outside influences, unresolved issues, etc. It doesn’t even matter the type of relationship; romantic, platonic, partnership, whatever. I’d rather two characters hate each other all the way until the last chapter than have them immediately hit off in chapter two only to fall apart later so they can have a big reunion by the end. So, it’s safe to say I don’t write those types of plotlines either (or at least I haven’t yet and have no plans to in the future). I like a story that has a steady growth/progression of the relationship forward. Any massive blow up fight that leads to Kate and Seth deciding to go their separate ways would be a step backwards from where they are now.  
> 2\. Its healthy for couples, or soon-to-be couples, to spend a day apart. Sometimes you gotta go take care of something out of town and your significant other can’t come with you due to prior commitments. This doesn’t reflect at all on your relationship, even if neither of you like the temporary separation.  
> 3\. The main reason Kate went with Freddie once Scott left is because she didn’t have anywhere else to go. That is not the case in this fic. She isn’t aimlessly searching for her brother on the road and then choosing to travel with the peacekeeper of the culebra world after meeting up with him. She has people she cares about waiting for her to get back from any runs she makes out of town and no reason at all to help Freddie with his hunt for a serial killer.  
> 4\. Bethel is three hours away from Houston. That’s a freakin’ day trip. If one was to take a trip to Bethel, after discussing it with a hypothetical partner/love interest and coming to an agreement of course, they could totally do so and still be back in Houston before missing anything.

Uncle Eddie launches into the history of the brand of coffee beans he buys as she settles into one of the overstuffed chairs in the open-spaced living room, hot cocoa in hand and half-watching him pick up around them. 

She wrinkles her nose, not sure how she feels about having drunk something that had to be dug out of monkey excrement, but the story does a good job of distracting her from the text message sitting on her phone. At least until Eddie gathers some wayward dishes and takes them back into the kitchen, leaving her alone with her thoughts. 

She’s got a reply half-typed out to Jessica before she changes her mind, hitting the backspace button and absently chewing on her bottom lip in contemplation. She barely registers Uncle Eddie returning, already telling her some story about a con he pulled in his younger days. 

"You waiting on a call?"

"Hm?" She looks up in confusion just as he puts a folded quilt on the back of the couch, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Oh. Sorry," she says sheepishly, realizing she missed what he was saying. She turns off the screen, tucking the phone under her thigh.

"Don't worry about it. I was young once," he says with a shrug. "But take it from this old timer, watching it won't make it ring any faster." 

She lets out a sigh, giving him a embarrassed little smile underlined with gratitude at his understanding of her rudeness. She pushes aside her worry to deal with later, picking up her almost cold cocoa and letting the mug rest in her hands as she puts all thoughts of her brother and what she should do next onto the back burner.

"What were saying?" she asks, turning in her seat so she's facing Eddie fully and tucking her feet under her. "About the job in New York?"

It's nearly another hour before Seth calls.

\- 

She follows Uncle Eddie out to the garage, sock covered feet stepping careful on the gritty stained concrete as Seth pulls up in a shiny new car. 

He is practically beaming as he throws open the door and all but hops out, arms wide as he gestures to the vehicle like a kid with a new toy, excited and proud and impatient to show it off. 

“I take it it went well,” Uncle Eddie says dryly. 

“Damn near perfect.” He shrugs, smile wilting slightly. “I had to break his hand and bash in some goon’s head but,” he claps his hands, rubbing his palms together and grinning widely once more as he looks back at the car, “I’d say not bad for a day’s work. Which means,” he turns to Kate, pulling out a stack of bills and holding it out, “I believe this belongs to the little lady.” 

“What’s this for?” she asks, taking the money and letting it sit in her palm. 

“What I owe you for Sonja.” 

He's already turned away, dividing out Eddie’s cut and ignoring her unhappy frown aimed at the side of his head. 

“I told you that I paid her,” she says, holding the cash out to him. 

“And now I paid you back.” 

“You don’t owe me for that, Seth. I was just as responsible for everything as you were. Besides, we earned that money _together_. Half of it was yours.” 

“And I gave it to you,” he says lightly but she can hear the underlining stubbornness, see it in the jutting of his chin and how he takes a small step back from her outstretched hand. She opens her mouth to argue when he snaps, “Just take the damn money, Kate.” 

She lets out a breath through her nose, looking down at the thick stack of bills before nodding reluctantly. It’s not the first time he’s gotten stubborn about money, always paying for their hotel rooms out of his share and insisting on giving her half of each take even when all she did was play distraction. She still doesn’t know how much he paid for their passports and licenses, knows he won’t let her pay him back for them even if she did. 

“We having dinner or what?” Seth asks, brushing past her and Eddie with a bounce in his step once more now that the cash is sorted. “C’mon, I’m starving and we need to celebrate.” 

They follow him, Kate stopping by the living room to drop her cut in her bag. Her phone catches her eye, screen dark and taunting. Her fingers brush the sides of the case, anxiety threatening to rise again. 

She has to tell him. Scott, or more specifically her desire to find him, has been at the center of many of their fights, and the idea of bringing it up now, when things are finally getting better, twists her stomach sourly. 

She shoves the thoughts to the back of her mind, promising herself she'll tell him in the morning and turns back to the celebration of a well pulled score. She smiles at the sound of Seth and Eddie’s bickering, something warm and light unfurling behind her ribs at their easy back and forth. This isn't home, but it’s the closest she’s felt to it in a long time. 

\- 

She takes a shower before bed, letting the hot water soothe her tired muscles and wash some of her tension down the drain. She takes a moment of utter delight in finding an actual blow-dryer for her hair in one of the drawers afterwards, marveling in the difference it makes after going so long without one. 

She goes to pull her new sleep clothes from her and Seth’s shared duffle, so much bigger than the straw bag she tossed at the gas station, pausing with her hand around the long sleeve top to the set she bought. Just past it is a stack of rolled up Henleys, half shoved to the side to make room for Kate’s large quantity of clothing. Seth bought four of them from the convivence store, three in black for some reason, and she finds herself grabbing one and pulling it on instead. 

It fits better than his dress shirt, even if it is still loose on her, sleeves bunching up around the base of her palms and the collar sitting just short of too wide along her shoulders. It still holds that new clothes smell, a certain near-stiffness that will fade in the wash, but its more appealing to her than her own never-been-worn pajama top. A bit of comfort when her world feels so unstable. 

She leaves the bag on the bathroom counter for Seth, grabbing her phone charger and heading back down the hall towards the guest room. 

“Shower’s free,” she calls towards where she can hear low voices in Eddie’s living room, pushing open the guest room door and slipping inside. She slows slightly when she catches sight of the bed, brows furrowing at the quilt covered queen-size sitting by its lonesome in the middle of the room, and feeling foolish for not remembering that guest rooms typically only have one bed. 

It’s not like her and Seth haven’t shared before, when money got tight or the type of motels they frequented didn’t have a double to spare. Especially during those beginning days together when all they had was a couple hundred American dollars found in the glove compartment of the Corvette, and they both were too emotionally numb and physically exhausted to spare a thought to their shared sleeping space. It was followed quickly by a short string of nights where it became awkward until they switched to forking over the extra cash for a second bed. But then familiarity played its part and Seth had that spell where he showed up drunk and didn't bother to check which bed he passed out in, and it stopped being awkward and just became this thing they did on occasional. 

But that was before, and there is something intrinsically different about sharing a bed in a motel room and sharing one in a home. Or maybe it’s her that’s changed, that shifting of her feelings towards Seth altering her perception. 

She shakes it off, deciding it doesn't matter and plugging in her phone charger and laying the cord across the night stand. She pauses before connecting her phone, sitting on the side of the bed and opening her texts once more. Jessica’s message stares back at her, accusing and demanding of her attention. 

Kate hadn’t heard from her in months before tonight, even before her dad dragged her and Scott off on an impromptu family vacation. She had pulled away those first few months after her mama died, avoiding going out after church and withdrawing from her friends at school, and Kate had just begun to rebuild her friendships when her dad came home with the RV and announced his plans. Kyle was really the only non-relative she managed to stay close with through her grief, quietly stubborn in his insistence that he’d wait for her and showing up at her place whenever she’d cancel plans, content to sit by her side until his mama called him home. 

She frowns, thoughts going back to the last time she saw him, just hours before the Geckos came barging into her life and changing it forever, and how blind she must have been not to see who he was behind Bible verses and promises of forever. To not see the sort of things he was capable of. Or maybe she did, she thinks, thoughts sliding too Seth and what she feels now for the man who once held a gun to her head, remembering Richie and the instant connection that formed by the pool that didn’t fade when she learned what he had done. Maybe she’s always been drawn to men with darkness in their hearts. 

Perhaps that should worry her, make her question what she’s doing with a criminal who has done far worse things than throwing a punch at her daddy, but she’s seen Seth at his worst. Broken and angry and violent towards the world, drowning himself in a needle and hoarding every drop of hate in his veins, and none of it frightened her the way Kyle did that sunny day on a dirt road. She knows who Seth _is,_ the jagged edges of his soul and his bruised, bleeding heart, and cares for him both in spite and because of them. In this Kate has learned to trust her own judgement, to distinguish a good man from an evil one not by the severity of his actions, but the central core of _who_ he is over _what_. 

She looks up, thoughts shattering and brows furrowing in confusion as voices filter through the walls. She pushes herself from the bed, heading towards the door and wrapping her hand around the knob. Her entire body freezes as the unmistakable sound of the cocking of a shotgun reaches her ears. 

The door is cracked a mere inch, Kate having not completely shut it behind her after her shower, and she slowly pulls it open, heart pounding hard behind her ribs. She steps out and stops at the scene before her. Two men stand down the hall in front of the bathroom with their backs to her, Seth before them dressed for bed in his traditional boxers and undershirt with his arms half-raised. He catches Kate’s eye over the larger of the two men’s shoulder and quickly flicks it away. 

Her feet stick to the floor, body locking into place as the air rushes from her lungs. 

“... a deal with the browns.” 

“The browns, huh?” Seth asks, practically rolling his eyes. 

“Now that I see it, it all makes sense,” the larger one says, barrel of the shotgun never wavering from Seth’s head. “He ain’t no Richie Sanz, he’s Richie _Gec-ko_. And you, you’re the other one.” 

“That’s one and only, asshole.” 

A hysterical little laugh rises up, catching somewhere in her diaphragm and squeezing bands of iron around her chest. Her hand comes up to press against the door frame, heart trying to beat its way free. 

She must make some kind of noise, because the smaller man is turning, almost glancing over his shoulder while his partner continues to spout threats. 

A shot rings out and Kate screams, the smaller man falling forward and laying crumpled on the floor, his back a bloody mess. She barely has time to register Seth’s lunge, already taking a step towards him as he forcibly wrenches the bigger man’s shotgun from him, turning it in his hands and firing, a second shot echoing from behind her. Twin splatters overlap on the wall, like some kind of gruesome avant-garde artwork, bright and wet and so very very red. 

Everything seems to freeze, going unnaturally still and she stares. Watching something solid and thick slide through the mess on the wall to land on the floor. 

“Kate?” Seth calls, a little high and frantic and she barely has time to tear her gaze from that too red splatter before Seth’s hands are on her, palms cupping her jaw and tilting her head back to look at him, words rapid fire. 

“Are you OK? Look at me. Are you hurt? Say something.” 

His hands drop to her shoulders, running down her arms, over her wrists and fingers, glancing touches over her stomach, waist, and ribs before one slides back up, curling around her bicep. The other moves to cup her jaw again, thumb pressing against her cheek and fingertips by her ear. 

“I-I’m fine,” she manages, her fingers trembling as she wraps them around his wrist, feeling his pulse under her thumb. She grabs onto his side with her free hand, twisting his undershirt as she tries to get her breathing under control. 

“Jesus Christ, Kate.” 

His breaths are ragged and warm against her skin as he drops his forehead, pressing it hard against hers, and she takes a shuffling step closer, feeling a little like she might fall if she let’s go. Or that he will. 

God, it was so close. In a place that was supposed to be safe, not on some job or in a temple dedicated to luring in bad men to their deaths. 

“Someone want to tell me who those men were,” Eddie says, and Kate very nearly jumps. 

Seth straightens, moving the hand on her cheek to cover her shoulder. The move shifts him slightly back and her grip on his side tightens, breath catching quick in her throat. His fingers clench around her upper arm and his thumb brushes soothingly over her clavicle. 

“Friends of Richie’s.” He looks back at the bodies, cursing harshly. A muscle in his jaw twitches and he looks down at her with something like desperation and resignation before turning to Uncle Eddie. “What the hell kind of shit is he into?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this and the last chapter are a little heavy on the Eddie-and-Kate-bonding scenes but hopefully the ending of this one makes up for it a bit.
> 
> And yes, I know it was Carlos and not Kyle who hit Jacob in season one, but Kate doesn't. And Carlos is not a good guy in the slightest. Its interesting to me to think about how Kate, who's so good at looking into the heart of people, must have reconciled the differences in the Kyle she dated and loved, and the one who called her brother a slur and was so calmly rough with her.
> 
> The show’s timeline is a bit jacked, have you noticed? I mean, Richie goes up to find Santanico and Carlos and then they cut to Seth and Sonja hooking up, followed by the Uncle Eddie coming in and saving the day, and then Seth still has time to decide to hunt Richie down and save him from that flesh dealer guy’s all in the time it takes Richie to go up some stairs and get jumped by Blanchard? I mean, maybe the two of them talked for a spell that we didn’t see before Seth showed up with his shotgun, but for how long? Because even if you manage to miss any major traffic, driving anywhere in Houston takes at the bare minimum half an hour and that‘s assuming it’s in the same neighborhood (which highly doubt because Uncle Eddie’s tv repair shop does not look like it’s in the same type of upscale area that human trafficking joint was), and that’s also assuming Seth was a bit quick on the draw with Sonja in the shower (I hope not, for both their sakes). Oh, and Seth was completely dry when he showed up, so really, it makes more sense that Seth was already on his way around the time Carlos was paying for the girls and the whole thing was just cut that way for drama’s sake. 
> 
> I have some questions, and mild headcanons, about Kate and Jessica’s friendship. What type of friend doesn’t text for three months? Even if their friend is on vacation. Plus, Scott’s comments, and Jessica’s sudden willingness to just totally hook-up with a friend’s little brother after supposedly liking him for so long but not doing anything about it out of respect for Kate. I mean, there are several possibilities (maybe Jessica is just flighty, and had never really had the opportunity to make a move on Scott, maybe she lied about liking him before and Scott’s new culebra-ness and confidence made him attractive to her only after he got back, maybe she’s pissed at Kate for some reason and decides to hook up with her little brother as payback, so many questions!) but I’m going with Jessica and Kate were on the outs before the Fullers left, but over time Jessica wanted to make up, she was just waiting for Kate to come back to talk to her in person (plus texting someone you haven’t talked to in a while is awkward) and used Scott as an excuse, thinking Kate was back too. After all, she could have just asked Scott if the Fullers were back if she was really just wanted to know if the family had returned, but she didn’t. She texted Kate.
> 
> I love all your comments and thoughts! It's cliché but I always end up getting inspired to write after reading them. :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Screw it. I am no longer trying to guess how long this thing is going to be. I know where it’s going to end, but the scenes between now and then keep getting longer. 
> 
> I keep going back and forth on if I even like this chapter. Sometimes I read over it and think ‘hey, this isn’t so bad. It’s even kind of good.’ and other times I read it and go ‘what the hell is this?’ But I'm also a little sick of looking at it and want to move on. Maybe I've just looked at it too long.
> 
> I don't know if I need to warn about this, but there's mentions of a miscarriage in this chapter. It happened a long time ago, and to another character than the one remembering it, but I thought that might be a bit of a sensitive topic for some people, and since its not something ever mentioned in the show I figured its not something people would be ready for and I would need to give a heads up

The browns, whom from what Kate can piece together are what those not-in-the-know call culebras, apparently have a lot of money and Richie is looking for an in. She’s not sure how it all ties together, (or why the culebras would allow such a rude moniker for themselves to spread) only half listening as she sits in one of tall chairs at Uncle Eddie’s work table and tries to ignore the two sheet-covered bodies at her back, thoughts spinning in circles. 

She couldn’t _move_ when she saw those men. Couldn’t seem to do more than watch in utter helplessness. She’s not always like that, she _knows_ she’s not, handled herself pretty well for most of their time in the Twister. Most, she thinks, but not all. Coward in the corner at the beginning and was the last to make a culebra kill, and she completely froze when that gunslinger showed up looking for Richie. 

No matter how much she tries, how much she tells herself she’ll do better next time, she still has those moments of frozen fear sprinkled inbetween bouts of action, her mind taking a step back, abandoning her body to watch each stretched moment pass her by like a spectator. A useless little girl that's more hindrance than help when things fall apart.

“Hey,” Seth says softly, bringing her attention to him and tearing through her spiraling thoughts. “You doing alright?” 

“I’ll be fine,” she says in lieu of an answer. She tries a smile, knows its weak and gives it up. “Just shaken.” 

“Yeah, well, listen. I’m going to have to go out for a bit. See what trouble Richie’s in.” He squints down at her, like he’s not sure if he should be leaving her alone and Kate’s heart turns over just a little. 

“Do you know what time you’ll be back?” She's asking more by rote than anything, something to say to keep him here a moment longer so she's not alone with her thoughts. 

“Late,” he says, tapping his fingers against the table. He opens his mouth, closing it with a frustrated furrow of his brow before continuing, “I’ll call you and Eddie when I know more.” 

As if the sound of his name conjured him from the back room, Uncle Eddie appears on her other side, setting a short glass tumbler on the table before her and unscrewing the top from a large bottle. 

“This’ll help,” he tells her, pouring the amber liquid into her glass. 

“What is it?” Kate asks, wrapping her fingers around it and pulling it closer, watching the alcohol inside ripple from the vibrations of her touch. 

“Something to settle your nerves.” 

“He means it’s bourbon,” Seth says, watching his uncle walk away with the bottle. She raises the glass, tilting it in consideration and he adds, “It’s better if you take small sips." 

She’s never been a drinker, a few swallows of wine during holiday dinners and a wine cooler at party once just to see what all the fuss was about the extent of her high school drinking experience. Alcohol hadn’t been her rebellion of choice, preferring methods of asserting control over letting go. She’d gotten drunk a couple of times in the week that directly followed that night at the Twister, when the pain of losing her daddy overwhelmed her and she missed her brother something fierce, before deciding it wasn’t an escape she wanted to find, but answers. But at the moment her knees still feel weak and her hands tremble ever so slightly and tears keeping trying to rise to the back of her eyes. She brings the glass up to her lips. 

It tastes horrible, biting and woodsy, but there’s a spicy warm aftertaste that is almost nice and the heat of it settles in her core pleasantly. The burn is different too, she thinks, less harsh than the shots Seth made them drink at the Twister, almost smooth in a way. She takes another little swallow, letting it roll over her tongue and down her throat, decides she doesn't hate it. 

Seth lets out a soft snort, wry twist to his mouth that isn’t quite amused but closer than she thinks he expected it to be. It helps. She doesn’t know why, but it does. That sweet bit of emotion playing across his face soothing over her nerves. 

“I got to hit the road,” he says, starting to push from the table and Kate finds her fingers wrapping around his wrist, palm pressed to the back of his hand, halting his movement. 

He looks at her, and maybe it’s that bit of soft concern in his eyes or the events from not even an hour ago still trying to replay in her head, but she pushes from her chair to land lightly on her toes, both arms sliding under his jacket to lock on his back. He sort of freezes against her, muscles locking into place as she presses her cheek against his chest and squeezes him close. 

“Stay safe,” she says quietly, words brushing over the white fabric of his reapplied button up, already back in his suit. His jaw brushes the crown of her head, hands hovering in the air by her side before wrapping around her, and head turning to push his nose into her hair. He seems to hum against her, chest expanding as he breathes in deep and Kate's fingers tighten on his back, body trembling against his. 

“Hey,” he says softly, voice gone rough and low. “It’s going to be fine, OK? I’ll get a bead on these guys, get Richie to fix his shit, and we’ll be _fine_.” 

She nods against him, letting out a muffled “I know,” before she pulls away, reluctant and a little self-conscious, tucking her hair behind her ear as she wraps her arms around her middle, suddenly chilled. 

He studies her a moment longer, nodding to himself and clearing his throat as he straightens his shoulders. 

“I’ll be back,” he says as he turns away, exchanging a nod with Uncle Eddie before he heads towards the garage. 

\- 

Seth calls a couple hours later while Kate is sitting cross-legged at the kitchen table, sleep alluding her despite her tired limbs and mostly empty tumbler next to a glass of water. She feels both steadier and looser all at once, slipping into a place where the harsh edges of the past several hours are dulled and her skin feels flushed with warmth. She's been alternating sips of her drink with swallows of water, trying to stave off any sort of hangover that might try and rise. She's not drunk, not really, but she thinks she might be close and she doesn't know enough to keep herself from crossing that line into inebriation, nor at what point her body will decide to rebel against the alcohol. 

She can hear Uncle Eddie yelling into the phone, threatening to shove Richie’s glasses up his ass before slamming the receiver down in the cradle. Kate didn’t even know people still had corded phones. Thought they existed only in old movies these days.

He sits down in front of her, dragging the bottle of bourbon closer to himself and pouring it into his own glass. 

“What was that about?” she asks, taking another small sip. It’s gotten better somehow. Or maybe she’s just used to the taste, but she likes the flavors it leaves on her tongue, smoky and little sweet, the way it heats the back of her throat and settles warmly in her belly. 

“Richie got his damn truck swiped. They’re trackin’ the thing down before it makes it to the big boss and blows this whole shitstorm up in his face.” 

“They workin’ together again?” she asks, hope raising the edges of her voice. 

“Yeah,” Uncle Eddies says, “at least for this.” 

She studies him, taking in his almost cheerful demeanor, so different from how he was just moments ago. 

“You don’t seem that angry.” She nods her head at the phone when he questions her with a look. “You were yelling.” 

“That?” He jerks his thumb towards the phone. “That’s an old trick I learned when the boys hit puberty. Moody little shits. Give ‘em a common enemy and those knuckleheads will make-up quicker than a whore sweats in church, pardon the expression. Massive pains in my ass, the both of them, but you call out one and the other gets all up in arms, sidin’ with his brother.” He chuckles, smiling fondly, and Kate doesn’t try and stop the soft, pleased laugh from escaping. 

She props her elbows on the table and rests her chin on her hand, ignoring the way her head buzzes and almost spins, fond little smile playing on her lips underlined with something almost sad. 

“My daddy would make Scott and me sit down and talk it out when we’d fight. He did counseling at church, mostly pre-nuptial stuff, and he thought he could get us to find the ‘root of the problem.’”

“I take it he was an only child?” Eddie asks with a shake of his head. 

“Him and my mama both,” she says with a nod. “I think that’s why they wanted Scott so badly.” She drops her hands to the table, fingers twisting together as she remembers only in vague details the years of frustration as her parents tried to have another child, before the decision to look into adoption. She used to think of that time as perfect, a golden age with her picturesque family, but she can almost recall those happy moments of celebration, when her parents would tell her about the new little sibling she'd have soon. And a few months later when her mama would come out of the bathroom crying, her dad rushing to hold her close as she softly broke down, weeping over the baby she'd lost. 

She opens her mouth to add how angry she was at suddenly having a little brother, her rejection of losing her single child status before that day she looked at Scott and realized she couldn't imagine her life without him, but she’s interrupted by a loud yawn, jaw cracking and she pulls the sleeve of her stolen Henley down over her hand to cover her mouth. 

“Why don’t you go on to bed, Katie?” Eddie suggests kindly. “You’ve had one hell of a day.” 

She doesn't flinch, thinks that she should, but finds she doesn't have it in her to be broken over this. Cracked and bruised no doubt, shaken within her core over coming so close to violence once more, having it touch her life when she thought herself beyond its reach for the moment, but this isn't what going to make her crumble. It's an oddly sad thought, to think that somehow this is not the worst outcome they could have faced, to know that despite her reluctance she's going to go down that hall where two men where killed and back to bed, get up tomorrow and face whatever new challenge the day will throw at her. Maybe she’s growing used to it, the death and violence, learning how to move on from each tragedy a little quicker. Or maybe it’s the alcohol in her veins blunting the horror of it now, putting it off to be faced later. 

She nods softly, trying not to glance in the direction the bodies had been, knows she won't see anything even if she was near the hall. Uncle Eddie knew some guys who take care of things like dead bodies in his home without any questions. And for a lot of cash.

"Should I finish this first?" she asks, indicating to her nearly empty glass and wondering how much that last bit will affect her, if it'll be just enough to tip her over the edge into intoxication or simply extend the tipsy-feeling she has.

“It's your life, you’ve got to make your own damn choices.” She gives him a look for throwing her own words back at her, sees his smothered smile sparkle in his eyes, before she laughs and down the last of her drink, wincing at the harsh swallow. 

“Good night, Uncle Eddie,” she says as she pushes herself to standing, swaying slightly on her feet before she feels steady. 

He raises his glass to her in salute watching her as she turns to exit the kitchen, her steps heavy and careful, gravity seemingly having a greater pull on her this evening, and one hand against the wall as a guide. She pauses slightly when the end of the hall comes into view, but she doesn’t stop, gaze automatically searching out remaining traces of blood on the walls and floor. 

Kate had helped clean up, after the bodies had been taken away and despite Eddie’s insistence she didn’t have to. Grabbed a bucket and the special cleaner he had and got down on her hands and knees. She found a kind of catharsis in taking a scrubbing brush and rag to the drying tracks of blood and bits of person, as if with every swipe of her rag she cleaned more than just the surface, going deeper into the spirit of the home itself. 

She clings to that feeling as she pushes open the door to the guest room, her hand only barely trembling, and finds the bedside lamp still on, her phone sitting dead beside the charger completely forgotten in the chaos that followed. She plugs it in before crawling under the covers, pulling the blanket up to her chin and curling up under it. 

She doesn’t know how long she lays there with the lamp light on, staring at her silent phone before rolling over to trace lines on the unfamiliar ceiling, but eventually sleep claims her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have written the official moment the two of them get together... later on. It’s still raw and unedited, but it’s there. It happens!... In a while from now... and technically I wrote it a little bit ago, but it was in my notes on my phone and now it's in a Word document and so therefore actually counts.
> 
> I apparently have a thing for making Kate like drinks I hate and dislike drinks I love. I drink coffee on the daily, and can't stand straight liquors of any kind. It's made research a little harder, because do you know how long it's been since I had bourbon? Yeah, neither do I. Going off memory of a drink you haven't had in probably around 10 years isn't easy.
> 
> I have put off my season three rewatch to keep myself in the season two mindset and keep the events fresh, but it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. :P
> 
> I also feel like I've gotten past all the major Eddie and Kate bonding moments in this fic (mostly), and now it's back to some more of the Seth-and-Kate moments. (It's not my fault he keeps having to run off and deal with things) :P


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I probably could have skipped the last chapter and gone straight into this one. Or at the very least really cut chapter 10 down and combine the two (although I would have had to cut this chapter down quite a bit). But selfishly I wanted to include a SethKate hug, and his smelling of her hair, and then I really wanted the scene where Eddie explains his reasoning behind yelling on the phone (because he went from all calm “prostate the size of a softball” to angry, yelling “rip that big-ass brain of his right back down through his asshole” and I wanted there to be a reason behind the switch) and then Kate wasn’t in the right mindset anymore after watching him for what I had her going to sleep, so I had to expand it all and it turned into its own chapter. 
> 
> This was originally much longer. I did that thing where I write the chapter out and then check the word count only to realize its way too long. Luckily, it was again two scenes, so I just moved the second scene to the next chapter and didn't have to do any real reworking of things. 
> 
> Happy Halloween! I'm heading out tonight and then tomorrow and the day after I'm busy, so I figured why not post this chapter now. :)

She wakes up alone with the lamp still on, blinking blearily at the empty space next to her as her mind tries to pieces together what’s wrong. 

Tendrils of worry spike through her, sharpening her thoughts and shaking the fog of sleep from her mind as she realizes Seth’s not back yet. She doesn’t know how long she slept, fumbling her hand against the night stand in search of her phone, finding it still dead but at least plugged into the charger. She waits for it to boot up, already slipping from her cocoon of blankets and heading towards the door. The awaking glow of the screen informs her that it’s near sunrise, early morning hours creeping on them and Seth's still not here. 

She makes her way to the living room, heart pounding and phone clutched tightly in her hand as she tries to convince herself that he’s fine. He might have gone back with Richie or, more likely, the two of them got into a fight and he went to a bar, got drunk, and is sleeping it off in his car. He’s did that once, in the very beginning, and she gave him hell about it the next morning because she thought he’d run off and left her behind. But maybe he did it again, forgot that half-mumbled assurance he gave her all those weeks ago, and is laid out in the cramped seats of his shiny new toy. 

She pauses as she catches sight of a figure on the couch, just visible in the muted dawn light coming through the windows. Relief, heady and all-consuming, spins through her as she recognizes Seth's sleeping form, and she all but stumbles her way to his side. 

He jerks as she reaches the edge of the couch, blinking up at her in confusion and squinting as he rubs his eyes. He’s still wearing most of his suit, tie and jacket gone, that knitted quilt Uncle Eddie set on the back yesterday haphazardly thrown over his legs and socked feet sticking out over the armrest. 

“What are you doing up?” he mumbles. “What time is it?” 

“Almost six-thirty,” she answers, voice falling into that soft timber reserved for early mornings and late nights, when time seems to shimmer and stretch into insular pockets of quiet space in shadow filled rooms. 

He pushes himself to sitting and she takes a step back so he can swing his legs around to the floor, hand rubbing roughly down his face as he lets out a yawn. Something swoops softly through her middle at the sleep lines on his cheek, disheveled hair smooshed against his scalp on one side made worse by the hand he runs through it. 

“Jesus,” he grumbles. “I’ve been asleep for three fucking hours.” He looks up at her, taking in whatever traces of worry are still echoing across her features, and his brows pinch together. He shifts, pulling the quilt out of the way so she can sit down. 

“Why are you out here?” she asks, tucking her legs under her as she curls up in the space next to him, body going heavy with weariness now that those spikes of unease have been soothed. 

“Uncle Eddie gave me shit earlier about...” One hand rises in the air, palm up, and then drops back onto his thigh. “And I didn’t want to wake you.” 

“He doesn’t want us sharing a room?” she asks before she can think better of it, feeling oddly embarrassed and relieved and irritated all at once. 

Seth shrugs, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye and she could swear there’s a flush to his cheeks as he scratches the back of his neck and looks away. 

“That I didn’t... give you the option. To say ‘no’ to, y’know... sharing.” He sort of winces, shoulders twitching as he works his jaw and flicks his gaze at the shadows. 

“When has you not asking stopped me from saying ‘no’?” she asks far too fondly, shaking her head with a soft snort that quickly morphs into an amused laugh. “And when have you ever made me do anything I didn’t want to?” 

He gives her an incredulous look, eyebrows raised before saying with confidence, “Plenty of times.” 

“Name one. And abducting me doesn’t count. You had a gun, that’s different.” 

“OK, for starters, I still have a gun.” He points a finger in her direction, head tilted towards her and brows narrowed in challenge. She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t comment. “And what about...” he opens his mouth, letting it hang there a moment as he tries to think and Kate’s smile threatens to grow, lips pressing together and eyes sparkling. “You didn’t want to leave Zempoala,” he says suddenly and with no small amount of quiet triumph. 

“And we didn’t. Stayed a whole extra day.” She hadn’t even had to try very hard, pointing out that it was just as good as the next town to find a score and close enough to a tourist spot for a good turnover of people carrying cash, even if Seth doesn't care for picking pockets, claims it’s too easy. 

His gaze narrow, brows drawing together as his lips part for a moment, closing with a scoff and subtle shake of his head. 

“Alright, alright,” he relents, but there’s a smile at the corners of his mouth, a lightness to his words even as he rolls eyes. “Point taken.” 

She has the oddest thought then, that for all Seth’s bluster and confidence, his undisputed role as shot caller of their partnership, it’s her that has the final say. He may make the calls, create the plans and throw out orders over questions, but it’s her decision to let them be carried out. That maybe he needs someone else to draw that line, give him permission to continue. Or at least tell him when not to. 

_Not with everything,_ she reminds herself, thoughts turning to Scott. But maybe that’s not so different either. They’ve fought about it plenty, he's shut her down or attempted to at every turn, but he never tried to stop her, never threatened to leave her behind if she continued. That was always her, one foot out the door the moment she realized he wasn’t going to help her find her brother. 

Her heart twists painfully as the memory of him kicking her from the car rises fresh and awful, of standing alone and blood stained on the side of the road, and she knows neither of them where in a good place, and that that doesn't excuse either of their actions, but she also looks back and wonders how much of his had to do with self-preservation, leaving her before she left him. She saw firsthand how much Richie’s choice broke him, how badly he handles even the thought of being truly alone. She’s gotten more than one frantic call in their months together, when she lost track of time and stayed away too long, heard the tremor in his voice even as he yelled into the phone, saw the way his eyes ran over her form the moment she got back, the desperation in the lines of his body as he put himself on the other side of the room, too far away to touch but where he could always see her, check on her, make sure she was _still there._

She didn’t let herself think about it then, how she would throw his brother’s choice in his face, threatening to do the same in the next breath that followed. That broken, bleeding part of her delighting in those painful, desperate reactions she could pull from him, hording that bit of power she possessed and using it to strike at his vulnerable underbelly as punishment for not giving her what she demanded. Hadn’t taken long to pick out his fear and turn it against him, and shame prickles against the back of her neck at the girl she was, allowing her damage to poison her in such a way. 

She looks at him, studies his features in the soft light, something akin to an apology swirling through her thoughts, but it's old and well worn. They made their apologies in their own ways, bleeding out their poisons in that week apart and then coming back together with soft words and careful actions. Still... 

“I’m glad I came back,” she says quietly, drawing his attention more fully towards her. He studies her, and she doesn’t know what he’s looking for or what he sees, but he nods slowly, something confused and cautious behind his eyes. 

She takes a breath, looking away to study the shadows as she pulls herself back to the here and now, relaxing back into her seat as she lets that bitter little seed still buried deep in her memory of that night they separated go. It may not be all, she may still have shards of lingering resentment and anger hidden where she can't see, but it's enough for now. A conscious choice to move on, to try a different path and free them both from that cycle of pain and fear.

“How’d it go with Richie?” she asks after a moment, feeling something light through her as she turns her head to look at Seth. 

He shrugs, trying for casual but she can see the tentative consideration in the tilt of his head, the subtle dropping of his gaze, like he’s still working through everything that happened when he went to help his brother. 

“We found the head bloodsucker’s place,” he tells her after a beat. “And got the girls out before they were delivered.” 

“Girls?” she asks, confusion and the beginning of alarm rising. 

He glances at her, quick and almost a little sheepish, something like shame and defensiveness mixing together in the line of his features. 

“That’s how Richie and his snake queen found this Malvado guy. He deals in all kinds of shit: drugs, guns, girls.” Something sick cramps through her belly, threatening to rise up her throat as her eyes going wide. Seth rushes onward, one hand gesturing in the air while the other twists in his seat to press his shoulder against the back of the couch, turning his body to face hers. “Richie jacked one of Malvado’s shipments, then sold it back to him with plans to follow the- follow it to him. He was never planning on actually letting it get there. We got the truck, I distracted the driver, and Richie got the girls out.” 

His words do little to ease the nausea in the pit of her stomach. Of all the things she’s faced, all the horrors she’s seen firsthand, that hasn’t been one of them. She’s come close, when that professor grabbed her, that brief flash of fearful certainty that _that_ was what he was after, before he made his intentions clear. It was almost a relief when he got her to the alter, going on about sacrifices to the gods and the purity of her blood. Death was something she had grown familiar with. 

“You up for the day?” he asks, tearing her from her thoughts, and she knows he’s trying to change the subject, distract her from what he revealed about his and Richie’s antics last night, but she doesn’t fight him, letting it go for now in favor of the easy mood between them. 

“I don't know yet.” Her gaze drops down at her hands, at the phone still held in one palm and she quickly tucks it under her thigh, like that’ll hide the contents from the both of them. “Are you going to sleep out here every night?” 

He seems to relax subtly, pressing further into the couch cushion as a teasing smirk twists one side his mouth up, eyes sparkling as he flicks his gaze over her. 

“Why? You miss me, princess?” 

Something flutters in her at his tone, a smile threatening to stretch across her face. “More like I’ve adjusted to the sounds of your snoring,” she says almost flippantly. “I’ve spent the last three months sleeping with you. In the same room,” she adds quickly, looking at him sharply even as her cheeks threaten to warm. “You’re like a white noise app.” 

“That all I am?” he asks with a playful flash of teeth. 

“I suppose,” she says, running her eyes over him and feeling bold in the low light and soft, muted shadows, “you would make a pretty good hot water bottle.” She raises her hand to rest against his bicep, features twisting into an exaggeration of a thoughtful frown as she tests the lack of give in the hard muscle with her fingers. “Not a good pillow, though. Too firm.” 

“That’s a shame,” he says mock seriously, flexing his arm against her hand even as something goes curious and little dark in his gaze “You sleep with a hot water bottle often?” 

“Every night in winter,” she replies, feeling oddly like she’s confessing. Or asking. 

She’s not even sure if they’re even talking about the same thing exactly, or if Seth is just following their back and forth along it’s natural course, if it’s just her and her crush that wants to read something else in their words. It’s easy to mistake friendly banter for flirting, and not everyone flirts with intention. A bit of easy, light hearted fun without thoughts of it being more.

“Well then,” he says softly, twisting towards her in his seat, “guess I better get my ass in bed before you get cold.”

“It’s not winter yet,” she points out, gaze flicking over him, and savoring the way her heart flips a little as he grins slowly. She’s enjoying this, liking someone. Enjoying that flamey feeling in her chest that shivers and curls through her, the way it’s carefully deepening into something more. Even the want in her veins, sitting at a low simmer and drawing her closer, makes her feel aware, of herself and him and that thrumming tension between them, in a way she doesn’t remember it ever being like before. 

Seth slowly slumps back against the couch, body curving to allow his head to rest along the edge, humming quietly under his breath and looking at her carefully through tired eyes before murmuring, “You sure about that?” 

She nods slowly, caught in the way that heated flicker in his gaze melts and deepens into something almost gentle as he looks at her, teasing grin softening with warm affection. It shudders through her, feeling far more personal, more _intimate_ , than it has a right to, than any mere look should. 

She runs her gaze over him at leisure, taking in his relaxed form, and begins to frown slightly as she notices the dark circles beneath his eyes, the tired lines of his slumped shoulders, and the deepening of the shadows bracketing his mouth.

“Do you have plans today?” she asks, resting her own head on the back of the sofa so he doesn’t have to tilts up to see her, watches the way the taunt lines of his neck relax as he adjusts slightly to keep her in his sight. 

“Richie’s coming by later. See if together we can’t convince Eddie to give up his plans on this guy.” He yawns, wide and loud, before shaking his head and blinking, starting to push himself into sitting up straight. “Shit,” he mutters. “I gotta wake-up.” 

“What you need is more sleep,” Kate counters. “What time is Richie coming by?” 

“Sometime before noon,” he says, rubbing a hand roughly down his face. 

“Then you have time.” 

Something twists in her, a nervous little flutter trying to rise, but she shoves it to the side. This isn’t about her, or that warm rush he gives her, it’s about the bags under Seth’s eye, the redness in his gaze, and his paling pallor. 

“C’mon,” she says gently, grabbing lightly at his arm as she stands, fingers sliding down to snag on his wrist. “You need more sleep.” 

“I can sleep here,” he points out, but it’s weak, a half-hearted protest that she doesn’t bother to counter as she tugs insistently. He pushes himself to standing, groaning loudly like her small hands and limited physical strength are actually enough to forcibly remove his much larger frame from the cushions. He lets her lead him into the guest room, pulse a little rapid beneath her fingertips, and a steady presence at her back, crowding close as she pushes the bedroom door open with her free hand. 

Kate sets the alarm on her phone to go off at nine-thirty as Seth strips from his slacks and dress shirt, dropping them carelessly to the floor and all but falling onto what she had been thinking of as her side of the bed, one hand shoving the pillow beneath his head, twisting it to get it to his liking, before pushing aside the heavier blanket in favor of the sheet. 

She turns off the bedside lamp, barely hesitating before crawling into the empty space next to him and pulling the discarded comforter over her. There’s a moment of suspended silence, the steady beating of her heart the only thing she can hear, before Seth lets out a harsh exhale, releasing her from the cocoon of too aware tension coating her skin. Something shifts, sound rushing back in and pressing time forward once more, and Kate lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She can hear Seth breathing, not quite in sleep but steady and there, lulling her into a quiet place until she slips back into her dreams once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Seth bent the truth about the truck and who he “distracted” as Richie got the girls out and all that (although I’m not sure he actually asked about how Richie and Kisa got the girls, so part of that is him just making shit up). He’s not going to tell her everything, going to shield her from the parts he can, and whereas I don’t think Seth would volunteer a blatant lie to Kate, I do think he’d soften the truth with fibs if information was found that that he was trying to omit. Is it necessarily a good thing to do to your partner/love interest? Nope. Is he going to do it anyways? You bet your sweet ass he will. 
> 
> Why is it that Kate chooses these sorts of moments to have that bit of insight? I'm going along, feeling that edge of a flirty line about to happen and Kate goes "hold the phone! I have to gleam this bit of insight into Seth and mine's relationship." Trust me, it was longer. Like a freakin' meta on their reactions to each other during those last days together and how their issues fed and clashed into each other.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of me wants to say sorry for the delay and the other keeps pointing out that I gave lots of warnings about not being a fast updater. So, er... here's the chapter! :)
> 
> I’ve spent the past 3 to 4 days fiddling with the word count on this freakin' chapter. So far when I have a chapter comprised of two scenes that turns out to be too long, I just make each scene its own chapter. But this time, the first scene is just way too short. I tried editing the second scene, I tried cutting out chunks (thank god I didn’t do more than put a strike through on them) and reworking bits, I tried cutting off the end on a bomb drop so that the following chapter would start up right where this one left off. But it was still too long. 
> 
> So I did what any writer does when stuck; I took a shower (because all good writing ideas come to you when you have no way to writing them down). Everything past the first scene was added last minute (sorta, as I did go through and find bits and pieces from cut/reworked scenes I’d placed aside in hopes of getting to use them later and got to stick a few of those in there) so I wouldn’t end up with either an extremely short chapter or an extremely long one. Also, I did only the bare minimum of editing on everything past the first scene, a couple of read throughs to catch typos and then post, because I want to get to the next chapters on this thing quick. They are _mostly_ done and my muse is pretty focused on them atm.

Kate is sitting at the kitchen table with a near empty plate in front of her, remnants of the first home cooked meal she’s had in months. It’s almost nine, another late morning, but she feels surprisingly refreshed after waking up barely half an hour before, careful not to disturb a still slumbering Seth as she slipped from their bed and followed the smell of something hot and sizzling to the kitchen, finding bacon and eggs and even some fresh slices of fruit waiting for her. 

She’s laughing loudly at a story of Uncle Eddie’s, one hand around her glass of orange juice, he went out on a quick grocery run before anyone else was up, and the other pressed against her lips when the sound of her phone alarm reaches her, growing steadily louder until Seth appears a few moments later, barefoot and beltless, but wearing a pair of clean slacks and a fresh undershirt. 

“Damn thing’s squawking in my ear,” he grumbles, handing it to her before snagging the last half of her butter-and-jam toast from her plate. 

She silences the alarm, watching Seth pour himself a cup of coffee one handed, edge of his lips already sticky with crumbs and raspberry jam as he finishes her toast in two quick bites. 

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Uncle Eddie says with a kind of pointed casualness, his own mug raised before him as he eyes his nephew. 

“It was late,” Seth replies, turning around to lean against the counter. He swipes this thumb at the corner of his mouth, sticking the pad between his lips to scrap clean with his teeth. Her cheeks pink as she catches herself watching, dropping her gaze to the table top as Seth adds, “I was crashed out on the couch when Kate woke up and dragged my ass to bed.” 

Her shoulders stiffen slightly, defensive words rising to sit ready on her tongue as she cuts her gaze to Uncle Eddie, but he just purses his lips and nods, picking up his discarded newspaper like the matter is settled with those simple words. And maybe it is, maybe it’s just her that feels on edge, messed up trust-issues and hair-trigger defenses causing her to see shadows where there are none. 

She lets out a soft, relieved breath, glancing back at Seth as he stares thoughtfully at his uncle, something pensive in his lidded gaze. As if he can feel her eyes on him he turns to look at her, gaze sharpening as it locks with hers. The corners of his lips start to curl, secretive and little impish, taking on an edge of private amusement as he dips his gaze downward, lingering on the lines of her collar and Kate is abruptly aware of her morning bedhead, the wrinkles in her sleep clothes, and that half of said clothes don’t actually belong to her. 

She stands up quickly, taking her dishes to the sink as Eddie inquires about how it went with Richie and Blanchard, the ‘rotten bastard’ who sent those men the night before from what she’s gathered. Seth fills him in as she runs her plate under the faucet, going into deeper details than he had that morning under his uncle’s steady stream of questions. 

She uses the shift in conversation to make her exit, grabbing her phone from the table and heading towards the bathroom. She slows as she passes the guestroom door, heart attempting to thud loud in her chest until she flips on the hall light, shining that artificial brightness over the whole of the walls and floor until it’s cast in sharp angled glory, chasing away the remembered lines and shapes with a new image, something untouched by the horror and violence living in her memory. 

Their clothing bag is still sitting on the bathroom counter, her and Seth’s toiletries mixed together around the sink it in an almost familiar display of domesticity. She sets her phone down beside the bag, pulling out her clothes for the day as she eyes the screen, thoughts slowly working their way towards the plan she made just the night before to tell Seth about Scott that morning. Something like dread rises, mixing with the antsy certainty that she needs to hurry before it’s too late. That her small delay has allowed something terrible to happen. 

_After Richie leaves,_ she promises, slipping a loose wrap top over her head and tugging the hem into place across her hips, when Seth will have the excitement of a new score on his mind and fresh plans to distract him. And he’s not still caught up in the anxious anticipation of Richie’s arrival. 

She lets out a breath, pulling her jeans on and buttoning them before she grabs her hairbrush. It’s almost strange, having a place that isn’t rented by the night but isn’t really theirs either. Being a guest but not a tenant. It feels almost like reaching a goal she didn’t know she had, taking that step forward on this weird, winding path she’s chosen and she’s not sure where the next will lead. She needs to find Scott, that much she knows, and not because of some promise she made to her daddy, but because he’s her little brother and she misses him. She failed him once already, leaving him behind in that place of pain. She hadn’t even realized how truly awful it was, not until months later when she learned how other culebras lived, how close to normal they could be and the frightened way they whispered about the horrors of the temple, when the full extent of her abandonment hit her. 

And now she has someone else she doesn’t want to abandon, someone who’s thoughts and feelings will be affected by her actions. She sighs, eyes catching on the dark screen of her phone. She picks it up, opening up that simple message from Jessica and types out a reply. She hits send before she can change her mind, shoving her phone in her back pocket with a forceful finality. It’s done. 

\- 

“What would someone even do with thirty-three million dollars?” she asks once she’s back in the kitchen, having gotten a few more details on the job Seth and Richie are going to try and talk Uncle Eddie out of. “Or rather sixteen and half.” 

Seth shrugs, placing a stack of freshly dried utensils in their designated tray. It’s surreal, watching him doing something as domestic as the dishes, falling into it like well-practiced routine after everyone finished breakfast and Eddie took his coffee and his newspaper to mind his shop. 

“Whatever we want.” He looks at her over his shoulder, flashing his teeth in an impish grin. “That’s the beauty of it, princess. Money like that, it’s freedom.” 

She can’t even imagine what she’d do with one million, let alone a number like thirty. Can only picture stacks to bound together bills that she’s seen in movies, but the last few months have taught her real cash looks different, less awe inspiring in person and usually stained and soft with wear. 

“What would you do?” she asks curiously, watching him run a rag over a bowel that still has some lingering moisture. She had started out trying to help, but southern hospitality won out even with retired conmen and Eddie had insisted she was to leave it all to Seth. 

He shrugs, checking the dryness of a couple cups before placing them in a cabinet with their mates. “What does any rich asshole do? Throw parties. Buy a yacht. Get a tiger.” He pauses after shutting the door on the plates, turning to lean against the edge of the counter and face her, merriment fading as he grows serious. He watches her a moment, tossing his towel over his shoulder in a move she’d seen her mama do many times while cleaning up. “Thought about buying a bar once. Before.” 

“You want to own a bar?” she asks, her voice rising in surprise and intrigue. 

“Thought about it,” he says, glancing away from her. “Get a place down in Florida, where they don’t know the name Gecko, and just...” He makes a sweeping motion with his hand across the air, fingers loose. 

“So, it’d be like your day job?” One side of her mouth quirks up, amusement dancing under her words. “Bartender by day, bank robber at night. Get yourself a manager to keep the place going for when you have to skip town?” 

“If I had thirty-three million, wouldn’t need to skip town. Wouldn’t have to run.” 

She blinks at him a moment watching the almost casual set to his features and wonders if he hears what he’s saying. If he knows what he means or is just countering her point. 

“I can’t imagine you not being a thief," she says after a moment, and he looks at her like he’s trying to suss out the hidden meaning in her words. 

The idea had never occurred her that he would stop. The thought of him going legit feeling foreign, almost like striking a wrong chord in a crowded room, off and yet impossible to pinpoint why, and she doesn’t know if it’s simply because she’s never known him any other way or if it is so ingrained in him, such a part of who is, as to be imbedded in his very skin. That too cut it out would be to remove something vital in him. 

"It seems like something you really love, pulling down scores. Making plans,” she explains, watching him as he studies her, eyes narrowed and something almost like confusion in the line between his brows. “Like it's something you do not because you _have_ to, but because you want to. I can’t imagine you giving that up.” 

She shrugs again, fingers twisting together before her and feeling a little awkward under his scrutiny. The way he absorbs her observations like they have some deeper meaning, some hidden insight into himself that he can’t see without the filter of her words. It’s a little heady, to think what she says might have such an influence over him, that she can somehow alter how he perceives any aspect of himself so easily. 

He nods slowly, a small downward dip of his head, his features drawn in thought before he straightens, turning back to the drying dishes and shaking off whatever lingering bit introspection remains. 

“All of this is useless anyway if Richie and I can’t convince Uncle Eddie to give up those plans,” he says easily. “Which is going to be a pain in the ass. He’s been working on this for like ten fucking years. It’s his ‘Shangri-La.’” He says the title almost mockingly, but she can hear the uncertainty in his voice, the doubt underlining his words. At his ability to convince his uncle or because he doesn’t understand where Eddie is coming from. _Or maybe both,_ she thinks. 

“Maybe you can get Richie to show him why it’d be so dangerous,” she suggests, her own worry over Eddie going up against a lord of the culebras mixing with the small, sympathetic ache for what Seth and Richie must be going through, knowing they have to convince him to give up a long-time dream for his own protection, but even to her own ears the suggestion sounds like a reach. An invite for a whole new mess of problems to solve just one. 

Seth lets out a sigh, placing the last of the dishes back in the cabinets. 

“Yeah, maybe.” 

\- 

Seth finds her outside in the parking lot enjoying the sun an hour later, head tilted back to stare at the Texas sky, so different than the one in Mexico, with bits of lilac and deep indigo mixed into all that blue. She grew up under this sky, told all her life how different it was from the rest of the world’s, like God had made it special just for them, but she didn’t realize how much she had missed it until now. 

“What are you doing out here?” he calls, coming up beside her and squinting into the bright, harsh edges of the horizon and completely missing that expanse of too blue directly overhead. 

“Absorbing the sun,” she tells him, eyes fluttering closed to let the heat seep into her lids before she drops her head and looks at him. 

“You would,” he grumbles, but there’s a note of affection in it. “You’re like a damn cat, always seeking out the warm spots." 

“Not all of us can be walking furnaces,” she counters with a pointed look. 

“Says the girl who wears long sleeves in the summer. _In Mexico_.” She scoffs good-naturedly, turning to face him more fully and watching him look her up and down. “Maybe it’s because you’re so small. No room to store heat.” He holds his hand out like he’s measuring her, palm facing the ground and far shorter than her actual height. 

“I’m not that short,” she protests. 

“Please,” Seth scoffs, flashing his teeth in a cocky half-grin. “I could pick your ass up and haul you away easy.” 

“Try it, Gecko.” 

A challenge flashes in his eyes, gaze moving over her features with intent and she instinctively takes a step back, something fluttering inside her in response to that focused look. He mimics her retreat, reclaiming that bit of space she tried to put between them. 

She points a finger at him warningly as adrenaline rushes through her veins, skittish and sharp and full of nervous giddiness. “I mean it, Seth. Don’t you dare.” 

His eyes darken and her stomach gives a little flip in response. He takes a step forward, half-stalking half-daring her to retreat in a way that’s familiar and new all at once. 

“Don’t what?” he asks, voice a low, teasing rasp that sort of vibrates through her middle, eyes locked on her. A knowing smile dances along his lips, causing something to clench hotly just below her belly button and drying the words in her throat. 

“What you’re thinking of doing,” she manages, sliding her foot back along the concrete. Her heart gives a little skip as he moves with her, eating up the ground between them with his longer stride and slow, steady advance. 

“You wanna know what I’ve been thinking about doing?” It sounds like a challenge and a tease and a promise all at once, and Kate doesn’t know how to respond. Half of her screaming _yes,_ while the other is flashing warnings in her head, fearful of saying something she can't take back. 

His lips part to allow the darting of his tongue against the bottom edge, grabbing her attention as he slowly shortens the lingering space between them, one hand coming up so his fingers can snag in the crossing bit of fabric over her stomach. He tugs it towards him, just enough for her to feel the soft draw forward, and her body rocks closer almost without thought. 

“Or do you already know?” His words are a near whisper, head bent towards her and she looks up, meeting that heated gaze. And maybe he sees the indecision in her eyes, that balanced precipice she's dangling over but not yet fallen, because he sort of pauses, body curved towards her and the back of his fingers just brushing her abdomen through two layers of cloth, making the muscles jump and twitch with awareness. 

His gaze is heavy and intense on her face, flicking between her eyes and over her features as her name slips from him like a question. She doesn’t know what he’s asking exactly, but she finds herself reaching out in answer, wrapping her fingers around the palm dangling by his side, squeezing slightly. 

His eyes stutter closed and he lets out a heavy sigh, and it doesn’t sound like regret or disappointment, but like a release. An acceptance of her silent request before he tilts his head back and blinks in the sun. 

“C’mon,” he mutters, twisting his hand and curling his fingers closed over hers, using it to tug her back towards the door. “We should eat before Richie gets here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing past breakfast was even remotely planned, and then Seth and Kate’s little teasing banter turned into... well, that. Thank god Kate decided she wasn’t ready to jump his bones yet or there was going to be a car alarm going off somewhere or something to interrupt them. As it is, I still need to go through the later scenes and double check that Kate is no longer completely oblivious to Seth's interest. Doubt and questioning? Sure (because there's something about liking someone that makes you suddenly doubt their feelings towards you no matter how obvious... or is that just me? :P ). But he was a little bold in his moves here for her to not be getting some inkling that her crush is not as one-sided as she was thinking.
> 
> Because I feel like someone will wonder but not ask why it is that Seth woke up when Kate approached him on the couch but not when she was leaving (probably because it’s something I thought about when writing it): Kate’s not the only one who’s grown used to the sounds of someone else breathing in the room and therefore sleeps better when they are there.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who got the e-mail saying chapter 13 was here only to click on the link to nothing, sorry about that. I did a complete rewrite (the first version was done almost entirely over the phone before my mind went "why can't Richie just come by" and I edited Seth's previous lines to fit my new idea) and then posted it without any sort of second read through right after writing it/before bed because I was sick of it and didn’t want to deal with it anymore. And then I started actually gave it one last look for typos (after hitting post) and realized “holy crap, I really need to edit this sucker.”  
> For those of you who did read it, my apologies. It was a first draft that should never have seen the light without some actual revision first. It was clearly not my best work, not even my middle of the road work, and only my first ever fanfiction from over 15 years ago (which I never posted, thank god) beats it out as my worst work. So it got a complete overhaul. I actually got it about 90% done the next day, only to have my computer decide to crash on me and then a bunch of things hit that upped my stress levels to a point they haven't been in probably a good two years. I got to the point where I was fighting almost constantly not to either burst into tears or bite someone's head off. It was bad. I couldn't sleep, swung between not eating at all and eating everything I saw, and writing was out of the question since apparently too much stress gives me a kind of writer's block. But after fighting tears on my way into work and having my back hurt like a motherfucker (I store the majority of my stress there), I finally realized what was going on and took a few days to destress. Then my mama's birthday came and the holiday weekend hit and I was out of town. But I'm back! And the chapter is done! (And the next three to four mostly done)
> 
> @Monny_bs: in response to your comment, yes that means Kate and Richie are going to have more talks. At least two before the story is finished and one in the very next chapter....unless the scene before it gets too long. They have stuff to hash out, but it comes secondary to what he has to hash out with Seth.

Kate’s not sure what she expected to happen when Richie finally arrived, five minutes before noon and appearing in the open area office space seemingly at random. 

He was part of it, the horrors of the Twister, and present just before when the loss of her mama was the biggest tragedy her family had faced. But she hasn’t seen him since, the bulk of him existing for her in that sharp turning point in her life and as a painful pressure point in Seth she had either avoided or aimed for, depending on her own bleeding wounds and desperate desires. He’s a bit of her past that she hadn’t realized had become more concept than reality until she sees him once more, staring at her with surprise and hints of awe as her name trips from his tongue in question. 

"What're you doing here?" he asks into the silence her entrance brought, something like bewilderment running through his features and confusion marring the line of his brow. 

“Seth didn’t tell you?” Unease twists through her middle, realization dawning that Richie wasn't expecting her, and she steals a glance at Seth, a thin layer of self-conscious doubt bubbling up as she takes in the hard line of his jaw and steel in his gaze. 

Something goes cold and calculating in Richard’s features when she looks back at him, thoughts swirling behind the lenses of his glasses before he turns to his brother in sharp disproval, jerking a hand towards her. 

“You brought Kate into this?” 

She stiffens, a prickle of defensiveness rising to the surface at the implication even as she’s almost a little touched at his tone, at the not-so-small amount of defense of her mixing into that heavy dose of accusation towards Seth. She hasn’t forgotten his odd little fascination with her, that bond they forged so quickly with a just a shared look and a few words, but for some reason she thought he had. That his determination to leave everything from his human life behind meant he’d already discarded the memory of the girl he’d found a measure of peace with, however small and temporary it was. 

Surly that’s a sign, if he hasn’t forgotten those thin threads connecting him to her than how much does the ones connecting him to Seth still mean to him? 

“She was already in this,” Seth bites out. 

“Since when?” 

“Since we took her!” 

Kate jerks her gaze to him, surprise parting her lips and stealing the words from her throat, but he won’t look at her, stubbornly staring at his brother with too much rage for her to accept that it's all about her. And she can’t believe that he holds that much guilt for her family's abduction, maybe some but not enough for the amount of regret hinted at in his words. It was an act of survival, one born out of desperation of a man backed into a corner and fighting for the thing he loves most in the world, and they were strangers who held the lifeline he needed. She’s accepted it for what it was, even understands it on some level, and whereas she’s not sure she’ll ever completely forgive either brother for taking her and her family, she lost her anger at them sometime between the initial baring of culebra fangs and promising to stay in the car during that first robbery after. And that, she thinks, is a different kind of absolution. The ability to see past the blame and hurt and build something beyond it. 

“Yeah, well,” Richie says almost carefully, voice low and even, “ _we_ didn’t bring her here.” 

“No, Sonja did,” she cuts in with that same even tone he used, her own aggravation mixing with the bit of anxious desire to end this, to offer some kind of balm to their endless fighting. Or at least remove one of their thinly veiled excuses so they can get to the real issue underneath. “But it’s my choice to be here. I _asked_ to come.” She gives a helpless little shrug when two sets of eyes turn to her and adding with as much lightness as she can, “Where else was I going to go?” 

Richie's gaze narrows, mien thoughtful and almost unsure until bits of information seem to click into place behind his eyes. Something akin to remorse flits just under the surface, and Kate suddenly, desperately doesn’t want to hear the apology she can see rising to the surface. Not for whatever slight he gleaned from her words that she doesn’t feel she’s owed.

“That place changed things for all of us,” she adds before he can say anything, glancing away before he can read anything else in her features. 

“Some things for the worse,” Seth says pointedly, old bitterness obvious under his words. 

“Really?” Richie bites out, attention ripping back to his brother so quickly she wonders if he even notices how easily he shifted focus. How utterly consumed they are with each other’s presence and the hurt between them. “I'm not even here fifteen minutes and you’re already busting my balls over the same old shit?” 

“Maybe if you actually got here on time.” 

“It’s the middle of the goddamn day. Some of us are supposed to be asleep." 

“Well excuse me for keeping normal fucking hours. Like an _actual_ human being.” 

“Unbelievable,” Richie scoffs even as he stiffens, lips pursing in displeasure as he glares at his brother. “I’d been shot through the chest, you dick!” 

Seth’s eyes go hard even as something flashes in the corners, a quick downturn of his lips that speaks briefly of something other than anger. Pain and regret and something too close to guilt that makes Kate’s heart ache in understanding. 

It's almost fascinating watching their reactions to each other, taking in the way they both fall so easily back into their bickering even as their words start to take on a sharper edge, cutting deeper and aiming for more sensitive areas, and wonders if they even realize just how in sync they are, how even the most basic move draws a response from the other. 

“Here we go,” Uncle Eddie calls, entering into the room with a few beers caught between his fingers and effectively cutting their barbed comments off as that building tension suddenly gets reeled back, his presence a sharp reminder that they’re here for a reason. That for all that they try and hate each other, for this, the man they both call family, they’ll put the resentment and anger aside and work together. 

“You want something to drink, Katie,” Eddie asks her, flicking his gaze in her direction even as he hands two of the beers to his nephews. 

“No, thank you,” she replies automatically, a small polite smile stretching her lips and he chuckles softly at her, shaking his head before pausing to look between his nephews. 

“We doing this or what?” Seth says, a kind of well-worn frustration prickling off him, edged with a world-weary exhaustion that she doesn’t think they’re meant to see. 

Eddie harrumphs under his breath, placing his own bottle on the edge of his tall work table, the map spread out across the surface and various papers scattered over the top, a briefcase holding down one end and a kistchy paper weight the other. He runs his hand over the top almost gently as he walks around the table to take a seat at one of the tall stools, an edge of pride coating his features as their little group gathers around it. Richie shoots her a look, questions and calculations in his eyes as she joins them, taking up the empty space to Seth’s right and letting Eddie give a quick summary of what he’s gathered, before he drops his gaze the pieces of the plan spread out before them. 

“This it?” Richie asks, tilting his head as he tries to get a better look of a list of names on scrap of paper. “Where’s the rest?” 

“This is the part I’m showing you dumbasses,” Eddie counters, yanking a small black ledger out of his reach when he goes to pick it up. “You’ll get the rest when I say so. After,” he adds, stabbing the ledger at him like a finger, “the both of you get your heads out of your asses. I have worked way too damn hard on this to let the two of you fuck it up.” 

“Eddie,” Seth implores, smile as smooth as a car salesman creasing his cheeks and hands coming up in supplication. “When have we ever not delivered? We’re the Gecko brothers.” 

“Exactly. Gecko brothers. And right now you ain’t exactly acting brotherly.” He studies them both an extra beat, eyes narrowed and grumpy. “New plan,” he adds suddenly. “We’ll come back to this,” he flicks his fingers over the map, “after you two eat about it.” 

“Oh, c’mon,” Seth says. 

“Is that really necessary?” Richie echoes, looking vaguely alarmed as Eddie starts gathering up the various parts to the plan. 

“Why not?” Kate asks, looking at Seth. “It worked for us.” 

He flicks his gaze at her, brows drawing together slightly before he shakes his head. “That was different. We weren’t-” he makes sweeping motion between them, somehow managing to include his brother as a comparison in that simple gesture before dropping his arm. 

“This ain’t a negotiation,” Eddie says firmly, already folding his map along crisp creases and placing it back in his briefcase. “No meal, no score.” 

“Alright,” Richie says, straightening his shoulders and tugging on the sleeves of his dress shirt, calm mask sliding into place over his features. 

“'Alright?’” Seth mocks, half-scoffing as he turns to glare at his brother. 

Richie slides his gaze to Seth, lips pursed in displeasure and eyes flashing behind his glasses. “You have a good reason not too?” 

Seth works his jaw, dropping his gaze with a harsh exhale before he raises one hand, palm up in a kind of defeated surrender. “Yeah, alright. We’ll have dinner.” 

Richie turns to Kate, hidden bits of knowledge in the back of his eyes. “Are you going to be there?” 

“What’s it to you if she is?” Seth grumbles before she has a chance to form a response. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other. I’d like to catch up.” 

Seth snorts, shaking his head as a tight, unhappy smile creases the corners of his mouth. “You wanna bring the snake-bitch.” 

“She has a name,” Richie bites out, gaze ripping towards Seth and flares of anger, hot and pure, licking across his features. 

“Your girl then, you wanna bring _your girl_ ,” Seth snaps back, but Kate can see the subtle softening in the corner of his eyes, the way his body turns slightly, blunting that edge of confrontation he’s been sporting practically since his brother arrived. He rubs at the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before he continues reluctantly, “Tomorrow at seven. I’ll make the reservations.” 

Kate’s eyes widen, mouth falling open as something close to panic rushes harsh and cold through her chest. 

“Seth?” 

She can't. Scott has already been back home for at least a day now, maybe more, confirmation that she'll be back soon already sent, and Seth doesn't know yet. She put it off and now he's trying to add her into a place she doesn’t belong. It’s not for her, this meal. It’s about them, the brothers and their fractured relationship, and she can’t see any good that could come from a third party being there. 

“You just keep your go-go dancer - _Santanico_ -” he growls when Richie starts to narrow his eyes, “in line.” 

_“Seth.”_

“Why is it you always get to make the reservations?” Richie’s jaw juts out stubbornly, looking not unlike a child just learning how to make demands. “What if I had a place in mind?” 

“Seth, I-” He holds up a hand, fingers slightly curled and palm facing her. 

“I really don’t give a shit. Make the damn reservations yourself if you want. Just tell us when and where and we’ll be there.” 

Richie nods in something like satisfaction before the muffled melody of a ringtone cuts through the air. 

“Hold on.” He pulls a cell phone, sleeker than the cheap flip-phones Seth favors and looking somehow wrong in his hands, from his inside jacket pocket. “I got to take this,” he says looking at the screen, already stepping passed Kate and towards the hall as he answers. 

“Alright, princess,” Seth says, turning to face her fully and voice rising in something like excitement, “looks like you and I are going dress shopping, get you a cute little number to wear for tomorrow night.” Something lights up the back of his eyes, a hint of mischief anticipation playing on the edges of his lips and curling along the lines of his features. 

“I can’t go,” she says in a rush, desperation bleeding through as she stares at him with wide eyes. 

He blinks at her, features scrunching up in confusion, and her heart pounds in her ears as she shifts her weight. 

“If this is about the vampire queen-” he begins, voice low as he leans towards her, head bent to meet her gaze. 

She shakes her head, cutting him off. “This isn’t about Santanico or Richie or,” she waves her hand in the air, fingers flicking slightly before she forces them to her sides, curling her fingers into fists. Her chin raises out of habit as she pins her gaze to him, sinking as much finality into her voice as she can, “I found Scott.” 

“You fo- what do you mean you found Scott?” His voice rises, and she can see Eddie’s attention shifting to them from the corner of her eye. 

“A friend texted me. Scott was outside of the school and she wanted to know if I was back too.” But that edge of aggression is already coating his features, that subtle lean towards her shifting into something angry and dominating, a crowding into her space that raises her hackles and aches against her teeth. 

“Kate,” he says slowly, words tight with restrained effort, “we’ve talked about this.” 

“No, we’ve argued about this.” 

Something goes flat on Seth’s face, a familiar hardness seeping into his gaze as his jaw takes on a stubborn tilt. Kate crosses her arms, chin jutting out as that buried old bit of angry resentment starts to rise, coating her throat in bitter acid. 

The threat to leave sits on her tongue, stale and bitter, and slicing through the sharp edges of her anger to bring a sliver of clarity. Old habits die hard and it's so easy to fall back on the familiar. It’s a vicious cycle though, one she promised to break, this tug and pull that nearly broke them once and is now trying to suck them back in and finish the job. It takes effort, more than she thought with such a familiar sight before her, an echo of nights past that she wants to remain there, to push the words back, to make her hands fall loose by her sides and forcibly release the tension from her features. 

“Please, Seth,” she says instead, shutting her eyes briefly so she can look at him with something other than stubborn steel when she opens them again. _Please_ , she thinks. _Don’t do this again. Don’t make me choose between you and my brother._ “He’s my family.” 

Something like pain and guilt and longing flashes behind his eyes, cracking through that hard coating of anger painted along his features, before he looks away, brow going tight and breath harsh through his nose. 

“I-” he begins, the rest of the sentence seemingly caught in his throat as he looks back at her, something desperate trying to peek out of his gaze. 

“I’ll go with you, Katie.” 

She whips around to look at Uncle Eddie, having all but forgotten his presence in the room. He’s looking at Seth, even as he addresses her, watching his nephew with an unreadable expression. 

“Bethel ain’t too far from here. We’ll leave out tonight, be back in a day or so. Let those two stubborn assholes have their fancy ass dinner.” He looks at her, coming around the tall table to set his briefcase in a drawer, locking it behind him before coming to stand by her side. “Give you and I a chance to hunt down this wayward brother of yours and them a chance to hash things out. After all,” he shoots Seth a pointed look, “he’s blood.” 

“Kid’s adopted,” Seth grumbles, but there's something almost petulant and half-resigned and so tightly wound in the way he looks at them, everything inside held close and hidden behind a shuttered gaze. 

“Blood don’t end with DNA,” Uncle Eddie says without missing a beat. “Otherwise you and me wouldn’t be family.” He stares hard at Seth a beat longer, before something in him loosens and he gestures towards the hall. “Call that brother of yours back in here. Tell him to make the reservations for two. No dames. You ‘n he goin’ to work this out old school. That’s better anyway.” His arms cross casually over his chest like the whole things been settled, rocking back on his heels with a wry twist to his mouth that doesn’t quite qualify as a smile, but has a ring of satisfaction to it none-the-less. “Score’ll still be here when we get back.” 

Kate opens her mouth before shutting it, a surprisingly trickle of relief swirling within her. She wasn’t looking forward to going back alone, hadn’t realized she had resigned herself to that fate until Eddie volunteered to accompany her. It's not ideal if she’s honest, who knows what state she’ll find Scott in and Eddie knows nothing of culebras, but something in her latches onto the idea, clinging to the promise of company, of _help._

“I’ll watch out for your girl,” Eddie says almost quietly, never taking his eyes from his nephew. "I'll bring her back to you in one piece." 

There’s a stretched out pause where Kate can feel Seth’s stare boring into the side of her head, a vibrating bit of anxious anticipation going through her until she turns to meet that gaze. Seeing a flash of that caged bit of helpless anger in his eyes, a shackling of his instinctive desire to fight against her decision before his thoughts are hidden from her once more. Her heart seems to skip and flip a little seeing that struggle, seeing him _try_ , even as an echo of her own defensive need to push tries to rise. 

“Change of plans, Richard,” Seth calls back at his brother, never taking his eyes from hers. “Just you and me for dinner.” 

“What happened to Kate?” he asks, coming back in and pausing just inside the door with his phone still in hand, and she doesn’t know what he sees, can’t take her eyes off of Seth’s unreadable gaze, and isn’t sure how much he heard with those new senses of his. 

Seth watches her for a beat longer before something softens in his features, giving way to a resigned sort of understanding. “She needs to find her brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys didn’t really think Kate was going to be the only Fuller Eddie met, did you? :P  
> But yes, this does mean Kate is going to miss out on the Seth and Richie dinner. I thought about it, I really did, but the timeline just works out better if she skips it. Plus, no Kate means Richie can’t bring Kisa, which means no screwing up of truce by outside people fighting.
> 
> This became another one of those chapters where every time I went to do the final reread of it I found myself editing a line here, a bit there, adding a couple sentences, etc. It's also hell of a lot longer than any other chapter, but quite frankly, I've accepted that it'll be the exception to my word-goal rules.  
> I also am not one-hundred percent sure how I feel about it, but the deadline I gave myself to get this thing out is up and the next chapter is calling my name. EDIT: Scratch that, chapter 14 is done, not for 15 and 16 and figuring when they split. :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not at all abandoned/forgotten/lost interest/etc in this story. I fully believed I’d have this chapter out pretty quickly after the last one and then December 1st hit and I realized holy shit, the end of the year is almost here! And I have a whole list of things that need to be done before January 1st. Because of that this fic, as well as all my writing really, had been put on the back burner until the beginning of the year in an effort to Get Shit Done before I ran out of time.  
> 
> I have also had the urge to rewatch season three and work on my post-series fic, but I really want to get this sucker done before then.

She finds Seth in their room ten minutes later, her bag over her shoulder and already holding the few items she’ll need. He glances up as she enters, leaning against the wooden edge of the dresser with his hands lightly tucked into his crossed arms. A hallow echo of anxious defensiveness attempts to spike through her before fading, smothered under the memory of his hard-won acceptance of her choice and the lack of tension in him now. 

“Hey,” he greets with a kind of quiet caution, gaze flicking over her and lingering as she sets her bag onto the edge of the bed. His brows scrunch together, eyeing the thinness of the simple tote and the lack of a secondary bag. “You just taking that?” 

“I’m going home,” she says, one side of her lips quirking up as she glances at him. “All my old stuff should still be there.”  

She pulls out what’s left from her cuts of the scores, setting the cash on the closest end table and squinting softly as she does some mental calculations. The money Seth insisted she take after they got here is nothing but hundred-dollar bills, an even ten grand she feels she did nothing to earn, while what remains of their last Mexican heist contains nothing higher than a twenty, having come from small shops that catered to American tourists. She flips through some of the worn bills, counting out roughly a hundred and fifty dollars and tucking it into a side pocket on the inside of her bag, hoping nothing unexpectedly expensive crops up before her and Uncle Eddie can make it back. 

She pulls her charger from the wall and drops it into her bag before glancing around for anything else she might need, pausing when she finds Seth watching her, expression unreadable. He pushes himself to standing before she can decipher it, crossing the few feet separating them to pick up one of the bundles of cash from the end table. He peels off a few hundred-dollar bills with an amused half-smile.  

“Gas stations work well for breaking large bills,” he explains, handing them to her. 

She gives him a nod of thanks, folding the money and slipping it into the front pocket of her jeans. 

“Call me when you get there,” he says, pinning her with his gaze. A simple demand from a man used to issuing them, but there’s something a little restless in his eyes, hidden behind the edge of a lighter kind of acceptance. 

Her lips curl in the beginning of a teasing grin, a little thrill of mischief rising up as she grabs a couple of twenties from the end table. Somewhere in her thoughts is the vague memory of their first successful job together, the question about how he usually celebrated such an event and his off-hand story of strip clubs and booze, and she presses the twenties against his stomach, fingers already curling downward to tuck the bills into the waistband of his slacks before she can second guess the move. 

“For the minutes,” she says. 

Amusement tugs at the edges of his lips, the sharp whiteness of his teeth peeking through at her. “You planning on using all mine up?” 

“I don’t need to plan it,” she replies, watching that flash of teasing mischief in his eyes she’s grown to care for so much. “I’m a teenage girl.” And a small part of her rebels against the words, shying away from this permanent gap between them, but the rest of her demands she face it. Acknowledge this facet of their relationship and claim it for her own.  

“Is that so?” he asks with a slow, teasing curl of his lips. “And what does that make me then?” 

“Well I’ll be damned.”  

She whips her head around, blinking at Richie standing in the doorway, something like confusion and dawning surprise chasing across his features in quick succession before steadily settling into a flint edged smirk. “Seems a score is not the only thing you have a stiffy for, brother.” 

Kate’s nose wrinkles at his word choice, even as a flush of muted embarrassment flashes through her, Seth biting out a frustrated warning in the form of his brother’s name. 

Richie’s slash of a grin develops teeth, sharp eyes flashing behind his glasses. “And you gave me such shit for-” 

“This is not the time for this, Richard,” Seth practically growls, a stiff line to his shoulders as he glares at him. 

For a moment Kate thinks Richie’s is going to push it, mouth opening and something so reminiscent of a brother’s delighted glee in tormenting their sibling flitting across his face, before something seems to shift in his thoughts, words dying before they even form. He nods, straightening as a smirk curves one side of his lips. 

“I’ll just give you two a minute then.” He flicks his gaze to her. “Catch you later, Kate.” 

“Fucking asshole,” Seth grumbles, still glaring at the open doorway as the sounds of Richie’s footsteps disappear down the hall. 

“Well,” Kate says, “he is your brother.”  

“Ha ha.”  

“And you do have a way of bringing it out in people.” 

“OK, smartass,” Seth scoffs, pinning her with his gaze for a moment before looking away. He gestures towards at her bag in a rough jerk. “Just grab your shit. The sooner you get going the sooner this is over with.” 

- 

Richie finds her before he leaves, catching her alone after she left Seth to his tuning of his flashy new car, and checking her bag to make sure she has everything she needs while she waits for Uncle Eddie. She shuts it as he enters, awkwardly dropping it back onto the chair as she looks at him. 

“Sorry about earlier,” he says quietly. “I was just trying to give Seth shit. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

“Yeah," she replies with a small shrug, “I figured as much.” She pauses, looking at Richie curiously. “Can I ask you a question? About being a culebra.” 

His eyes widen, seeming almost to rear back before settling, watching on her with an unreadable gaze for a beat before saying carefully, “Alright." 

“How do you do it? Feed I mean.” 

He raises a brow at her, head tilted in question and something like intrigue.  

“That’s not a topic I expected you to become interested in.” 

“Scott got bit,” she says, voice dropping as she looks away. “And I want to help him, but...” She shakes her head, letting out a soft, frustrated sigh before looking at Richie, watching her with a tense sort of thoughtfulness. “I don’t want him killing innocent people either. Did Santanico teach you some trick or something? For telling a good man from a bad one.” 

“You’re going about it all wrong,” Richie replies, one hand coming up to wave through the air as he shakes his head and steps forward. "We can feed without killing. Or turning, for that matter. It’s hard at first, but it can be done. You want to keep Scott from becoming a killer, that’s what you need to focus on.” 

“How?” she asks, blinking in bewilderment. 

For the first time Richie looks genuinely uncomfortable, features twisting in disgust.   
   
“Rats,” he says almost reluctantly. “They have no souls,” he explains. “Which means they taste like shit. You don’t want to drink more than you have to.” He pins her with a look. “He can’t survive on just animals though, it's not good for him and he’ll go nuts at the first drop of human blood he gets. You have to mix it up. Alternate between the two. And you can’t let him get too hungry or his instincts’ll take over the moment he bites down and he’ll drain them dry." She nods slowly, letting his words absorb and committing them to memory. 

Unbidden rises the memory of Rafa, face bent over the neck of a dying man as he bit down harder. Was that instinct taking over, having gone too long without a proper meal? Or did he use her to lure in his next prey? He’d been so calm afterwards, wiping his chin and thanking her as if there wasn’t a still warm corpse just behind him, a corpse she helped put there. She hadn’t felt much guilt at the time, justifying her actions with the knowledge that the man had meant her harm and Raphael had no choice if he wanted to survive. A messy bit of necessity that she was going to have to get used to if she wanted her brother back. That there might have been another way, that Rafa had options he failed to tell her about... 

She shoves the thoughts aside, pushing down that rising bit of betrayed anger trying to kindle in her chest. There’s nothing she can do about it now even if she could figure out Rafa’s intentions, both he and the stranger are dead and gone, and Scott still out there.  

“’Alternate human and animal and don’t let him get too hungry,’” she repeats firmly. “Anything else? Any other advice you can give me?” 

He studies her a moment, hard gaze flicking over her before he says bluntly, “Be careful.” She frowns at him, confusion and something defensive swirling through her before he continues. “You’re pretty tempting, Kate. Hit me like a ton of brinks when you came into the room earlier. I don’t know if it’s like a smell or...” He waves a hand through the air, face scrunching up in something like concentration. “Maybe it’s just some kind of new sense or instinct, but a part of me just knows that you’d taste pretty fucking good.” 

A muffled sort of alarm shoots through her, fading as quickly as it rises as she takes in the thoughtful confusion on Richie’s face, something akin more to academic curiosity than hunger shining through his features. 

“But you _can_ control it,” she points out. 

“Yeah, but I’ve got the queen of all vampires teaching me. I don’t know who’s been teaching Scott, but I doubt its someone with her lesson plan.” Something predatory and cold and utterly reptilian in nature flashes through his eyes. “Or her teaching aids.” 

“I heard,” Kate says, words hard and brittle and she realizes only as they leave her mouth that she’s angry at him. That she has been since this morning. “Since when did you get into human trafficking?” 

He blinks in sudden surprise, mouth dropping open before closing again, brows drawing together.  

“Seth’s got a big mouth,” he says before pulling his shoulders back and leveling her with a firm look. “It was a smart plan, and it worked. Led us straight to Malvado’s hideout." 

“There had to be another way. One that didn’t involve selling innocent girls.” 

“The girls were never in any real danger,” he counters, dismissing her concerns with a flippancy that has her clenching her teeth. 

“That’s not the point,” she says, taking those few steps closer until she has to look up at him. She pauses, biting back the rest of her argument as she sees the lack of understanding his eyes. More, the lack of trying to understand.  

She takes a breath through her nose, thoughts turning over as she looks into those detached eyes, cold and unrepentant. She reaches out and pulls his hand up in a move that feels almost familiar, holding it open before her. She settles her own much smaller one over his, palm to palm, curling his fingers around her wrist until they’re secure.  

“Maybe you don’t know what it’s like,” she says almost softly, something like pity and the barest hints of steel weaving themselves under her words. She squeezes until his fingers press into her wrist, blunt nails leaving washed-out indents against her skin and pressing into the tendons underneath. “Or maybe you just don’t remember.” She pushes, feels his hand tighten around hers as he instinctively twists, bones just beginning to grind in protest as her arm strains in his hold. “How it is to be small and weak and at the mercy of someone so much bigger than you.”  

He jerks back like she burned him. A small quick move that nearly rips his hand from hers, captured wrist turning in his flinching fingers and pulling a small sound from the back of her throat. She looks up, features tight in discomfort, and sees the moment he realizes their positions. The way she’s hunched before him, his shadow swallowing her up and dwarfing her already small frame, the sheer size of him towering over her and blotting out the rest of the room from her view.  

He freezes, fathomless gaze fracturing as his whole body goes tense and unsure. His fingers twitch before going slack and he takes a tentative step back, staring at Kate for another beat before he dropping his gaze. He looks down at his hand as hers slips free in something like painful confusion, mouth opening and closing before he says in thin voice, “I didn’t hurt them.” 

“You didn’t have to.” 

He looks at her, something of a lost little boy in his gaze, that tortured soul rising up, and it takes an effort not offer comfort, to let that dawning bit of realization fill him, connecting the dots and bringing him that understanding his brilliant mind couldn’t make on its own.  

“We let them go,” he says almost softly, and she doesn’t know if it’s a counter or a plea or an olive branch. He looks over her shoulder before she can reply, features shifting into a more neutral expression as Uncle Eddie enters the living room, old-fashioned suitcase in one hand and his briefcase in the other. 

“You ready to hit the road, kid?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone had a Happy New Year! :)
> 
> I read something on Tumblr (before it changed its guidelines) about one fic reader’s habit of requesting certain tags be added to a fic because of how much they enjoy reading certain things and how they’ll search for them by tags. It got me thinking and if there’s any particular tag that any of you feel should be added to this let me know. I’m not a tag person really, I don’t usually look beyond warnings, pairings, and quick glance over the rest to see if anything in particular catches my eye, but am willing to accommodate if someone wants me too. 
> 
> I can't be the only person a little bugged by Rafa's lack of full disclosure. Maybe he didn't know that Not Killing was an option, we have no idea when he was turned or how much he was taught on what was and wasn't possible as a culebra, but it bugs me that he went straight into telling the religious girl trying to save her brother's soul that "he can murder bad people" as the best solution and not even mentioning the "he doesn't _have_ to be a killer" option.


End file.
